Stories to be Told
by 0x0UnderDog0x0
Summary: Many stories get passed from one to another over the years in Middle Earth. Thranduil travels with his son into a dark forest to see if one story about a certain cursed elleth is true, and if so, he may need her help in order to defend Mirkwood from future attacks. Will she be willing to help him though? Rated for violence. OC/Thranduil, complete, expect a sequel.
1. Part 1

Stories

Part One

The line of marching elves was one stretched a mile long. They carried luggage on their backs while they walked in pairs down the path, the soldiers stepping in time together while they lead in front of and followed behind the king Thranduil and his son Legolas. The path used to be a well-worn one, considered the safest of trails and used almost daily by traders. Now it lay hidden behind trees and bushes, withered and mutilated by the elements, abandoned by the ones who used it for travel so fondly and frequently.

The elves who walked the path in front made sure to stamp down on the ground hard so that the lords' horses could ride smoothly over it. Legolas felt that the protection of a hundred archers, fifty in front and fifty in back, to be rather excessive on a journey as simple as this one, but kept his opinions to himself. His father had explained the situation once already, and his father was certainly not known for happily repeating himself, so Legolas decided to not bring it up again.

Rumors had recently risen up about a very old creature hiding within the woods; a creature that held knowledge of The Enemy, but ill will towards anything which disturbs it. The creature had been presumed dead hundreds of years ago since no sign of it could be found for decades. Recent evidence, however, raised suspicion as to whether or not a creature such as this one could even die.

The stories were first shared between hunters, men who spent much time in the same woods as the creature, then were spread to the townspeople nearby. Traders took the stories from the townspeople along with them on their journeys across Middle Earth, and this was when pointed ears perked in interest. The stories were spread from one elven house to another until they were finally brought into the kingdom of Mirkwood so that the king Thranduil himself heard them in his halls.

A group of five men were exploring the old forests in hopes of finding new game to hunt. They traveled for eight days, finding only small animals that they had to eat themselves in order to keep from starving during their exploration, when they were ready to give up and turn back. On the ninth night, however, they set up camp in what they thought was an abandoned city which once housed elves. There were tall winding towers and noble houses crowded together, all carved out of wood and stone in an identical fashion to the way that Mirkwood's buildings were designed. The buildings were filled with the remnants of furniture, clothing, books, even silverware, but everything was broken down and burnt as if a fire had spread and destroyed anything it could touch. The men thought this place beautiful, regardless of how dark, heavy, and lonely it felt to be in its presence.

The men could not sleep that night no matter how hard they tried. Their fire seemed not to provide any warmth at all and only produced terrifying shadows of things that weren't there. Cold fog swept over the ground and clung to them the same way a starved wolf would cling to their newly captured meal. Tree branches spread high across the sky and kept the light of the moon and stars from shining down on them. The rabbits that they had caught and cooked that very day tasted as if they had gone horribly bad and made the men heave until their stomachs were as empty as the buildings that surrounded them.

One man said that they should leave the old elven city, mentioned something about it being cursed, but it was too dangerous to travel at night in places as unfamiliar as this forest. They were forced to wait until the sun's first rays would peek through the branches and leaves above their heads before they could leave. It seemed that forces were against the men that could not be avoided or controlled; they were helpless.

As they huddled together around their fire, shaking from the cold and listening to their hungry stomachs complain, they began to hear sounds. Things in the trees above them were moving from limb to limb, snapping twigs and squawking or clicking as they went. Beatles, worms, and even centipedes uprooted themselves from the ground to wriggle around the men's sitting forms. Rats appeared from nowhere to sniff and nibble at their flesh as snakes slithered onto their laps and made themselves comfortable around the men's necks. Then there came the shadow of someone hunched over and the wheezing breath of a horrid old hag. Mangy, starved mutts walked beside the creature, snarling and foaming at the mouth as they circled the men. The shadowy creature made a gesture of some sort and the little fire was blown out by an intense gust of wind.

The men refused to move, knowing that at least half of the creatures surrounding them were capable of poisoning or killing them. Their breaths stuttered in their throats and their hearts threatened to pound out from their chests. Other than the sickening sounds of the insects and animals around them, all was silent for moments. The men were too frightened to speak and the shadow creature was too entertained by their fear to break the silence…until the precise moment when it decided otherwise.

In a ghastly voice that only creatures born, raised, and adored by the darkness could possess, the creature spoke.

"You dare to enter my home without invitation? You would dare to hunt on my land, burn my lumber, rest on my ground? Such foolish men you are."

And before any of the men could defend themselves or beg for forgiveness, one of them was raised into the air by invisible hands. The others only had time to exclaim in surprise and fear before the man was ripped to pieces.

His clothing tore the same way his flesh did as each individual bone was separated from one another at the joints and floated inches from where they once belonged. His fingers became short cylinders of flesh, blood, and bone. His jaw unhinged from his skull and hovered away from the rest of his face. Each rib was pulled off, his spine divided, his arms yanked from their sockets; his thigh pulled from his hip, his shin pulled from his thigh, his foot pulled from his shin, and each toe departed. Soon the earth beneath him was soaked with blood and bone marrow.

The night was filled with the men's screams as they stood and ran. Two of them were attacked by the wolves to be shared with the snakes, rats, and beetles as dinner. One other man was forced back towards the creature when a hoard of ravens, crows, and owls swarmed and practically herded him. The creature tore at the man's flesh with only her sharpened nails and jagged teeth.

One man got away. The birds tried to push him back towards the creature as well, but this man had been smart enough to grab his hunting knife before he ran. He swung and sliced at the birds until they flew away injured and weary of him. The creature tried to send its hounds after him, but the hunter took out his bow and filled the beasts each with three arrows before being able to finally escape.

As he ran he could hear the creature's voice in his head and swore that her invisible hands were right at his back every second, ready to tear him apart just as his friend had been. It wasn't until the sun finally rose over the mountains, broke through the clouds, and shone down onto the man that he slowed and gave himself a moment to grieve over his friends. He pushed on and walked to the nearest town where he warned every person willing to listen to his frantic rambles not to go into that forest ever again. An evil creature, the shell of what once was an elven woman, belonged to those cursed woods just as much as the woods belonged to her.

It took almost two years for the story to reach the king, and he was quick to send out elves from his own army to look for the man who had survived the attack. King Thranduil was smarter than to trust these stories; every creature—be it man, dwarf, orc, or elf—had a tendency to twist and misconstrued stories, no matter how slight or accidental it may be. This is why he did not bother to ask about other versions of the story, and also because he truly on cared for the fact that the creature was elleth. The details were useless, however gory or despairing they were; Thranduil only cared for the dark elleth.

The king _needed_ to know the truth.

Sadly, though, the man had killed himself in despair of the things he had seen. The only way anybody could ever know the honest truth about what the creature was would be by going to the forest and seeing the creature for themselves.

This is what the king's son had been told more than once, by soldiers, servants, and even the king himself. What Legolas wasn't being told though, along with the soldiers and servants who joined them on their journey, was the reason why the creature mattered so much.

At first the elven prince assumed that it was a mission to destroy the creature for its horrible deeds and that Thranduil was joining them on the hunt was for some sort of publicity related reason. Then the king ordered all who knew of the mission to stay silent, lest they wish to be beheaded, and made sure that nobody would make a move to kill the creature. Wound it so that they might have a chance to escape, perhaps, but not kill it. Now Legolas was rather unsure as to what their intentions were for the creature and why so many of the king's fighters were required if not to murder it, or at least protect the royal family by killing it.

As he sat atop his steed, Legolas continued to remind himself that these questions had already been brought forth to his father Thranduil. If they were not received kindly the first time, then surely a second time would ensure the unsightly wrath of the king. The prince compared the stories that he'd heard of what cruel things his father was capable of doing to others to the story of the creature, and briefly wondered: shall Legolas's father meet his match, or shall the creature?

The elves traveled two days before they stopped in a clearing just to the side of the path in order to rest and eat. Tents were pitched, night watches were arranged, meals were being prepared, and fires were started.

The archers' plain campfires and tiny tents circled the king's larger, more comfortable tent which was made of pastel silks, lit and warmed with a tiny furnace in the center, and housed the simplest yet most comfortable furniture that could be transported with ease. A small table held maps to the right side of the tent, while another larger table to the left of the tent was already overflowing with generous amounts of food. The king's bed was made of gorgeous furs and large pillows piled amongst one another, all raised on a short podium in a similar way that his throne was. King Thranduil had taken a liking to having the ability of looking down on people as often as possible. The servants all shared one tent with each other to the right of the king's miniature palace and Legolas slept in his own larger, but not as large as his father's, tent to the left.

The night was uneventful. The soldiers grumbled under their breath about their reason for being there, and once again the story was passed from mouth to ear until nobody could stand to hear another word of it.

The servants whispered their worries and fears to one another until the more reasonable of them had to ensure that a hundred archers plus the king and his son would be able to take care of six measly servants if need be; the only question was if the servants were worth caring for. This notion caused them to work hard, making delectable food and handing out larger portions than necessary in hopes that the soldiers would be more likely to save them were they ever in danger.

Legolas had already eaten and was resting soundly upon his own furs and pillows in his tent which was also heated by a small furnace.

Thranduil sat upon his makeshift bed—which he had momentarily arranged in such a way that allowed him to use it as more of a chair—inside his warm tent, wearing one of his many eloquent gowns, with his crown perfectly perched on top of his head. His legs were crossed at the knee, his arms resting on the pillows at his sides, his back relaxed, and his head tilted slightly to the side. The king wore not a bored gaze as he normally would within his tent, but a rather inquisitive one as he stared into the flames of the furnace. Thoughts of the creature in the forest ran through his mind, along with ponderings of who she might truly be.

No more than a hundred years ago, at the beginning of the Second Age, there were other stories being passed around. The stories told were of rings, powerful rings being forged by one man and then presented as gifts to the three main races of Middle Earth; men, elves, and dwarfs. Although the rings were taken with a greedy haste, the creator of the rings wasn't well known, therefor he was not well trusted. It was a time of suspicion, and the taste darkness lingered on one's tongue constantly.

And then another ring was made; one ring meant to rule them all. Before anyone knew it, monsters freely roamed Middle Earth and destroyed everything in their path. War had begun, and only the enemy was prepared.

In the midst of the bloodshed and fear, though, there was an elf from Rivendell who managed to sneak past it all and cross behind enemy lines unscathed. She was nobody: not an archer, not a sword fighter, not part of a rebellion party, and not a spy. It is unknown if she did what she did to protect the ones she loved or if someone had convinced her to do it. Perhaps she was just extremely lucky, up until the exact moment when her luck ran out. Thranduil, though, assumed that she was simply young and had a fool's ambition.

Behind enemy lines the lone elleth managed to get close to Sauron over the span of a few days. She must have tricked the enemy into thinking she was an orc or goblin to have gotten so close to Sauron, although this too is unknown. The elleth, the stupidly clever and cleverly stupid elleth, tried to steal the ring right off of the enemy's hand.

It is said that she mentioned polishing it so it could shine to its full potential, and that she said this in such a way that kept Sauron from being suspicious of her, so she managed to _actually have_ the ring in her hands. How she was found out is pure speculation, as is most of the story, but she was discovered before the ring could be destroyed or hidden.

The elleth begged for her life, promised to do anything that Sauron wanted, so long as she was allowed to live. The enemy, though, does not respect beggars and was not known for being forgiving. He decided to punish her by also sparing her at the same time; he cursed her.

Sauron promised the elleth that darkness and death would follow her wherever she went, that only allies to the enemy would see her as a friend, and that _nothing_ could _ever_ kill her.

The sun would not dare to shine on her ever again and many would try to kill her on first sight strictly due to fear. Beasts would seek her out for a welcoming shelter, regardless if she offered it to them or not. No illness, no wound, and no magic would offer her death and save her from this cursed excuse of a life. The only way that the darkness would ever leave her was if someone were foolish enough to trust her ever again; but who would trust someone that was easily befriended by orcs, goblins, trolls, dragons, or other ghastly creatures of the sort? To be near this elleth was to put one's self in constant danger.

The elleth was blindfolded and lead into a faraway forest, one that was filled to the brink with horrible monsters, a forest that was always avoided by men, elves, and dwarfs; people that she desperately needed to come in contact with if she wished for the curse to be lifted. The orcs and goblins that lived there kept her from reaching out though, treating her as if she were both their pet and their parent, and pushed her already frayed mind to the edge of insanity. The elleth suddenly struck out at them and flooded the forest with the blood and bodies of the enemy, using a newfound power that she had not expected to have.

Once the forest was cleared of any creature that stood in her way, she went to the nearest town in search for help. No matter how hopeless the elleth thought herself, she did manage to find a town. The curse stayed true to itself though; dangerous animals followed her with intent to kill, trolls made their way down from the mountain and into the town, the clouds stalked her, and even after she killed the things that had come forth to put the villagers in danger, her presence alone made the villagers deathly sick. Within a single day the elleth had destroyed the inhabitants of the dark forest, but also unintentionally ruined the lives of the small trading town.

The elleth wasn't heard of ever again after that.

The wars went on, Sauron fell, and the ring was lost.

Many men vowed to have their vengeance for the lives which she took that day, and had searched the forest time and time again to be sure she was rid of it. After no sign of her was found, they moved on to search for her in other dark or dangerous places of Middle Earth, but found no sign. For quite some time, many figured that she had found some far off cave in a tall mountain, or that she joined the enemy lines and assisted from afar; then the elleth was assumed dead and forgotten.

Now that Thranduil was mulling it over, though, he thought that maybe she had never left the forest in the first place. Maybe those spiteful men looking to avenge the fallen people of the town _had_ found her in the forest, but nobody realized it…because nobody was left to tell the tale. Not until recently, of course. How it was that one of five men managed to escape the dark elleth was beyond the king, but again, it was a mere detail that did not matter in the overall scheme of things.

The darkness was rising once again. Thranduil could smell it in the air, felt the stiffness in his bones and the soreness of his muscles; even the most eloquent foods were beginning to lose their tastes. These aches were once before felt by him, one hundred years ago, during the time of fire and ruin. The enemy was stirring in hopes to emerge again, and the elven king refused to be as unprepared as he was the first time.

Thranduil wanted the dark elleth, for he needed to speak with the creature in the forest of the things which she had seen behind enemy lines. She had been close to the orcs and even Sauron himself; surely she knew some of his secrets or at the very least knew what his plans were. Surely she could be of some use if the enemy truly did come forth and fight once more.

How the king would coerce the information from her wasn't clear just yet, but he was prepared to offer anything up if it meant that he would be one step ahead of the enemy. Treasure, power, a place in his kingdom; Thranduil would give the dark elleth whatever she desired, so long as he was given useful information.

Everyone slept soundly that night, if not slightly paranoid, and awoke with the first rays of the sun. They packed quickly and were walking down the path once more, nearing the creature with each step they took. Nobody spoke during the journey and let their thoughts keep them entertained. They waited two more days before making camp in a small clearing once more and allowing themselves rest and sleep. More stories were told, more speculations made among the servants and soldiers, and Thranduil triple checked his map to be sure they were on the correct course. It would seem that they were a day's journey away from where the man had claimed to be attacked.

That night, as the king lie sleeping in his bed, he had a strange and upsetting dream.

He dreamt that he stood in the halls of Mirkwood, completely and utterly alone—no guards, servants, or citizens of his kingdom could be spotted—except for one elleth. She looked young, as if she still had some years left before she would stop aging, and quite pretty. Long silver hair flowed down her shoulders and tickled the tops of her bare feet. She had piercing blue irises, a color so soft that they were almost as clear as the whites of her eyes. Her skin was pale and smooth, covered by a modest dress the shade of alabaster with designs along the chest that must have been spun from pure silver.

The elleth wore a confused yet friendly expression as she stood still with her arms at her sides and looked at the king. Thranduil was frowning at her in a disapproving manner across the few yards that stood between them, somehow convinced that she was not meant to be there. He could not speak though, could not tell her to leave, and he couldn't move a single muscle. He soon found that the same did not go for the elleth as she stepped towards him and stretched out an arm in his direction, as if she had something in her upturned hand to give him. Time was different here though, and her movements were extremely slow; slow enough that he could see the exact moment when she began to change.

The ends of her hair began to curl and darken, as if they were being burnt from the very bottom up to the top, until her hair was short, black and mangled. Her dress began to rip and fall to the floor in shreds, leaving her skin to peek out from under what now was a scant and aged piece of ugly cloth. Her flesh greyed, the veins turning white and becoming all too easy to spot, and weight left her body to make her even thinner than she already was. Her eyes became white orbs in dark sockets, her lips dried until they cracked, bled, and tore back to reveal sharp yellow teeth, and the nails of the hand stretching towards Thranduil grew straight and strong to make sharpened weapons on the end of her fingers.

All light and heat left the room as the elleth was slowly lifted and left floating two feet above the ground where her bare feet once stood. Her ruined hair and poor excuse for clothing hovered no more than an inch above her skin, as if she were underwater. She began to move closer to him, her twisted face pulling into a sickening, bloody grin while she grew nearer. The king's eyes widened and his mouth opened in shock as he stared at the strange woman before him, fear and anxiety rising in his heart. His heavy, scared breaths were coming out as fog while the tips of his fingers and toes numbed in the frozen halls of Mirkwood.

He found that he could finally move and made to step back, time slowing him just as much as it had the dark elleth. Thranduil's ability to see the horrible creature before him lessened until she merely became a dark figure floating towards him. He went to unsheathe his sword with intent to defend himself and his kingdom, but just as his shaking hand touched the hilt the dark elleth's outstretched hand turned to let whatever she held fall to the floor.

Before Thranduil could distinguish what she had been trying to offer him he awoke from his dream, breathing hard and staring with wide eyes at the ceiling of his tent. Before he could question his dream or what could have been in the dark elleth's hand, sounds from outside took his attention. The two horses brought with them were stamping their feet and whinnying, kicking at the trees that they were tied to in want of escape. Even though it was still dark out he heard the soldiers stirring in their small tents and the servant girls sobbing within their own. Quickly he stepped out and demanded their attention.

"Legolas!" He called across the camp. At the sound of their leader, the archers stepped from their tents and stood at attention while the servants peeked their weary heads out at him. Legolas came to his father with a concerned expression and spoke in hushed tones.

"Father, I've had a dream—"

"A dream that I believe the rest of us has shared on this night." Thranduil spoke clearly and loudly for everyone to hear. "A dream of an elleth turned evil." His eyes looked over every soldier before him as they shifted nervously from foot to foot and knew his assumption to be correct. Legolas frowned at his father's words and shook his head.

"A shared dream? How could it be, it makes no sense." Legolas asked.

Thranduil looked down at his son expressionless, slightly disappointed that he could not connect the dots on his own.

"It makes perfect sense, my son. It was sent as a message to us from the dark elleth herself." Murmurs ran through the camp and the servants began to fret among one another. The king had to speak even louder over the panicking voices to be heard. "The creature what resides in this forest is near; nearer than I had expected. Archers, stand guard with your weapons at the ready."

The elves all moved as one, turning to face away from the camp, correcting their stance, and drawing their bows in preparation for whatever was coming their way. Thranduil shifted his gaze to the servants who were quick to stand at attention for their king, regardless of the terror they were feeling.

"Douse the fires and begin packing everything away. We must be ready to move at a moment's notice. Nobody sleeps tonight, not in these woods."

The servants straightened themselves and forced their minds to calm, quickly going to work on taking everything in the camp down.

Legolas stepped before his father, itching to stand with the archers and ready his bow, but he would not do so until Thranduil made it so.

"And what would you have me do father?"

Thranduil eyed his son from head to toe before coming to a decision.

"I would have you will join me in waiting for the sun to rise." He turned and walked back into his tent, motioning for Legolas to follow him to the table of maps.

"We _wait_?" Legolas hissed in displeasure. He leant on the table as he stood across from his father. Thranduil did not bother to look up as he spoke, too busy carefully observing the map before him to face his son.

"It won't be long now and we will not be able to continue our journey until we have the aid of daylight on our side. She is trying to find us, my dear son, just as we are trying to find her, and we must be ready when she arrives. We need every advantage we can possibly have, and it just so happens that the ability to see clearly is an advantage that is required."

The king's son sighed and looked away, pushing off of the table to stand straight. Legolas paced back and forth twice before stopping and regarding the king once more.

"You said that the dream was a message," he said, "what do you think that message was?"

"The message that the dark elleth was giving us was a simple yet important one."

Thranduil turned his head and stared at Legolas, trying to convey with just that one glance how serious this mission was.

"Run."


	2. Part 2

Part Two

They survived the night without seeing or hearing anything unusual and were marching on the trail yet again as soon as the sun rose. The king and his son rode their horses side by side in the front of the line rather than in the middle so that if they were to come across something then they would be the first to know.

Legolas carefully searched the tree line from afar, waiting to see the dark creature from his dreams standing there and grinning at them, while Thranduil listened closely for any hint of the elleth. The archers' arms were tired from keeping steady aim all night long and their eyes burning with the need to get more rest, but there was nothing for them to do about it. They'd been through harsher things though and were mentally preparing themselves for worse things to come. The servants walked at the very back of the line, weary and ready to shout and draw their swords at a moment's notice.

The sun, which had been relentless and sweltering on the backs' of the elves the day before, was now hidden by clouds that threatened to rain. Songbirds did not sing to them as they normally would, but rather watched them with beady eyes and ruffled their wings in irritation. Bugs skittered in the underbrush around them yet managed to remain unseen as they did so.

It did not take long for them to come to the fork in the road, but had they not been paying attention, they would have completely missed it. The king slowed his horse to a stop as he eyed the mouth of the new trail and motioned for those behind him to halt as well. Legolas stopped his horse next to Thranduil and also gave the trail a weary glance before looking back to the king.

"So this is it then; the road which leads to the creature."

"I am afraid so." Thranduil spoke with perched lips and strict eyes. "Archers at the ready."

"Archers at the ready!" Legolas repeated the order loudly, and all elves behind them readied their bows in perfect unison.

"You must also prepare yourself my son," the king said, "for the things in these woods will not hesitate to kill a prince." Legolas nodded and drew his own bow, his grip strong and ready.

They began walking once more and were disturbed by what they were seeing.

The trees were old and dead, the earth beneath them was frozen, and bloodied carcasses of many different creatures lie in their wake. Not only were there orcs, giant spiders, goblins, lying on the cold ground with their innards spilling from them, but there were also men, hobbits, and dwarfs in many stages of slaughter. Thranduil was disgusted and angered by what he saw, but pushed on with thoughts of Sauron's secrets in his mind.

Then they came upon such a horrible sight that Thranduil could not hide his shock at what was before him. A wall of bodies and limbs stood on either side of the path and came together to form an archway above it. In front of the wall were effigies; sticks stuck in the ground and tied is such a way to make the shape of a person. Pierced on the sticks though were body parts to make them even more realistic: the effigies had the heads of orcs, the arms of men, the legs of hobbits, and right in the center of the sickening statues were the hearts of elves.

The smell was nearly as terrible as the sight.

Thranduil dismounted his steed and, covering his mouth and nose, hesitantly approached one of the effigies. He gaged and fought the wetness in his eyes as he pulled the heart from the center of the dastardly thing.

"What…foul being…would treat one if its own in such a…terrifying manner?"

Letting the cold bloody thing in his hand slip and bounce along the ground, Thranduil walked along the wall and peered into the dead faces he saw there. Legolas had dismounted as well to join his father and was now looking with distasted at the heart that the king had carelessly dropped.

"So much death." Thranduil muttered. "I cannot fathom…cannot think of a single thing that could _survive_ in a place such as _this_."

Legolas glanced sideways at his father as he stood under the archway, staring up at the arms and legs that dangled down from it.

"You really think that only one person lives here?" Curiously he reached up towards an arm carrying an elven jewel; it must have been one of the nobles, certainly not searching for a fight.

"I am not certain, but I think so. There is a member from every race in this wall, meaning she sees every sort of creature as a threat. I doubt she would make an exception for a partnership of any sort." The king said before looking away from the frozen face of a screaming dwarf and at his son.

Thranduil's eyes widened as he watched Legolas reach for a bracelet on the wrist of a dead elf and hastily swept towards him, yanking his arm away just before he could touch it. He stood close to his son and glared down at him as if he were a naïve child trying to intentionally upset its parent.

"You will touch nothing that you see here, Legolas, for everything before you belongs to the creature."

Legolas pulled his arm from his father's grip, glaring up at him spitefully. He had hoped to find a family crest on that bracelet, so that he could take it back to its rightful owners and deliver the news of a lost relative. Before he could explain this, though, the pair of soldiers at the front of the line stepped forward and knelt in respect.

"Sires, I believe you may want to look behind you." One of them said.

Thranduil and Legolas looked behind them and realized they had come to their desired destination; the creature's home. It sat on top of a small hill with a tiny river at the bottom of it. The path lead across a bridge, straight up to the house, and strangely enough not a single corpse or severed limb could be seen from this point on.

It was only a mere hut made upon the cluster of thin trees, constructed with pillars and roofing in styles that did indeed look elven. The hut seemed to be three stories tall, but each floor must have held maybe one room each, and the trees it was built among were the pillars meant to hold the whole thing up. Legolas stepped forward and spoke loud enough for all to hear.

"They set up camp in what they thought was an _abandoned city_ which once housed elves. There were tall winding towers and noble houses crowded together, all carved out of wood and stone in an identical fashion to the way that Mirkwood's buildings were designed." Legolas's face broke out into a smirk as he quoted the story they'd all been told and shook his head. "Well, at least they got the elven part right."

Thranduil ignored his son's words, having known that there would be many false truths discovered in the tale they'd been told, and turned away from the house to look amongst his men. He kept his chin high as his eyes searched those before him.

"I see the creature's home…but where, one might wonder, is the creature?"

All was silent. Legolas's grip on his bow tightened and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. It suddenly felt like there were hundreds of eyes staring at them all, watching everything they did and waiting for an exact moment to make themselves known.

"Archers," Thranduil said, gaining their immediate attention, "search the area. Touch nothing and only sound if you see the creature, but for the love of Middle Earth, _do not fire_."

The elves split into groups of two as they walked to the left and right of the king and prince to spread out and move into the trees. Meanwhile the small group of servants crowded by the wall of bodies with their daggers and swords held shaking in their hands. While they had been trained in fighting, none of them were good enough to save themselves or one another; only to offer as bait or distraction for the king's profit. The servants were well aware of this; it was the reason for their being fearful this whole time.

Slowly Thranduil turned in place, his hands clasped behind his back and his eyes squinting in suspicion of anything that moved or made a sound, closely scanning every single thing that fell under his gaze. It would be difficult to notice anything hidden in the woods with his soldiers there, he knew, but he trusted their eyes and ears just as much as he trusted his own.

"Father," Legolas said, making the king flinch and sigh in irritation, "the story says that the men had to wait until late into the night before they encountered the creature; perhaps we shall do the same?"

Thranduil hadn't even taken a breath to speak before another voice answered above his.

"Nonsense; it would be rude to keep guests waiting so long for their host."

Legolas spun and had an arrow pointed at the elleth's neck the moment he heard her voice, ready to let it fly straight through her throat at any second. Not moments later were the archers standing beside their prince with their own weapons drawn, surrounding her in a very tight circle. In fact, there were so many archers ready to fire, four tightly knit circles trapped the elleth and gave her no room to breathe. Even the servants stood in the circle.

The mighty elven king Thranduil stood outside the circle with his hands clasped behind his back, standing straight and holding his head high. It was only until things had settled and quieted down that he strode forward calmly, taking his time to show that he was in no hurry or haste over the elleth. His soldiers parted for him and let him into the tight circle so he may stand face to face with the elleth.

Looking her over, Thranduil realized that he had been expecting to find something else when he would first meet with the dark elleth. He thought he would see a creature similar to the one from his dream; a thin, pale being with dead eyes, repulsing hair, tattered clothes, and her teeth and nails sharpened for easy killing.

His thoughts turned to the story he'd been told as he sat upon his throne back in Mirkwood.

"Then there came the shadow of someone hunched over and the wheezing breath of a horrid old hag…the creature tore at the man's flesh with only her sharpened nails and jagged teeth… an evil creature, the shell of what once was an elven woman, belonged to those cursed woods just as much as the woods belonged to her."

This, however, was not so.

Before the king was indeed a thin and pale being, but its eyes were bright and intelligent, her hair fell white and straight just past her breasts, her clothing that of a common elf's despite the cloak made of black fur sitting upon her shoulders. She bore scars over her face, neck, chest, arms, and probably in many other places as well. Her teeth weren't the cleanest, and her nails were a bit long and unmanaged, but she was not nearly as horrible as the story foretold.

None of her features were shrouded in darkness or shadow as the story foretold, and no horrible bugs or beasts made themselves known at her arrival. Things were certainly not what the king and his fighters had thought them to be.

"Of course," the elleth spoke as she looked Thranduil directly in his eye "to refer to you as _guests_ would imply that you had been invited here; which you were not. I suppose, then, that would make you intruders rather than guests."

The king chuckled.

"And just what is it that you do with intruders, might I ask?" Thranduil said with an air of arrogant amusement. He told himself he had nothing to worry about, not when he had his archers with him, and yet he did feel a slight unease.

The elleth raised a scarred eyebrow.

"You _did_ see the mass graveyard on your way to me, did you not?"

The king chuckled.

"I did, and I must admit, it was a rather bold decision to have a mass grave in your front yard."

"It is the _backyard_ , actually; you lot came round on the old roads…must be from Mirkwood. Haven't had anyone from Mirkwood here before. I've had folk from Rivendell and Forlond, maybe Brithombar too, but not from Mirkwood."

Thranduil casually reached out and took her jaw in his hand. Confusion quickly flashed in the elleth's eyes as he inspected her, turning her head this way and that, until he pulled back her hair and gazed at the pointed ear. The corner of the king's mouth turned up in a smug smirk and he let go, stepping back and placing his hands behind him once more.

"Who are you and what do you want?" The elleth asked, shifting from foot to foot and shoving her hands in her pockets. "Not another scouting party come to take my head, are you?"

"No. I am king Thranduil, the ruler to the Halls of Thranduil in Mirkwood. I have come here to simply find the truth in the stories being told about you…tell me, dear elleth, what is your name?"

She eyed the king suspiciously, clearly unsure of his agenda. She did not know these people, nor were they making a good first impression, so why should she bother to give them her name? They would probably just keep referring to her as the creature.

"You _will_ answer your king." Legolas warned as he pressed the end of his arrow into her throat until the skin broke. He was surprised to see no blood drip down from the wound, but mentioned nothing of it.

The elleth's head turned just slightly to gaze at the prince—causing the arrow to cut deeper into her neck, but she took no notice of it—and stared him down.

"I will answer him," she said calmly, "but he is no king of mine. It would do you well to know that you have no rule here in these woods; nobody does."

"You would dare insult _us_ in your position?" Legolas hissed spitefully. "In case you haven't noticed, I've got my arrow pointed at your throat."

The elleth nodded in agreement. "Oh, I've noticed. You've also got arrows pointed at my head, my belly, my chest, back, arms, legs, hands and even my feet. I cannot tell if you mean to kill me or make me into a very large porcupine."

"Do not tempt me."

The elleth tilted her head to the side with a slight smirk; she could tell that this one would be fun to rile up.

"Stick me a thousand times over if you wish, darling prince, for it would do me no harm."

"Enough!" Thranduil demanded before his son could take further offense to her words and stir trouble.

"Tell me your name."

The elleth sighed and turned back to Thranduil.

"In these forests I am known as Baradeth."

"And outside of the woods?" Thranduil challenged.

"I am not named outside the woods, for the people there have forgotten me. Whatever name was given to me then is overwritten by the name that I have now." Sorrow weighed heavily in the elleth's voice, along with shame.

Her name translated in the tongue of men simply meant doomed female. Thranduil had a good idea of who deemed the name to be hers, but wondered why she decided to keep it and not the one she was born with. There were many other unimportant things that the king was wondering, but they would have to wait to be answered.

"Well then Baradeth, let me be the first to say that I am pleased to make your acquaintance."

The king bowed lowly with the sweep of his arm and stood with a pleasant grin. Baradeth, however, was not smiling. In fact she seemed to be rather displeased at the moment.

"I refuse to say the same to you until your soldiers stand back and lay down their arms."

"And why is that?" The elven prince tested. "You said that we couldn't do you any harm."

Thranduil was getting rather irritated with Legolas and starting to regret ever bringing him along. Baradeth was dangerous enough already, she didn't need to be angered and pushed to violence by an arrogant prince.

"And my words were true, but it's just not good etiquette to come to one's home, aim your weapons at them, and ask them questions, now is it? I only figured that a king would want to try making a better first impression, that's all."

Thranduil realized that he _was_ being rather rude; he should have told his men to relax the moment Baradeth began speaking to them in such a civil manner. True, he had been thinking he would come across some evil magical creature with intent to kill them.

He had not brought the archers because he thought they would protect him and his son, but to keep the creature busy if it decided to attack them so that he may run away. It was a cowardly thing to do, something he was sure to regret in his long life, but he knew better to try and kill something that would not die.

Now that Thranduil knew this not to be the case, however, he decided that he was indeed being rather rude and needed to put himself back in line. With a single motion of his hand the soldiers and servants each lowered their weapons and marched as one to stand in line behind the king. Legolas laid his arms down as well and went to stand next to his father, glaring at Baradeth as he did so.

Thranduil had thought he would see the elleth relax once the bows and arrows had been put away, and when he didn't he realized that she must have been relaxed this whole time. It truly would not have bothered her if they did, for whatever reason, decided to stick her like a pig in a slaughter house.

"You are all too right, my dear, and I apologize greatly. Could you ever find it in your heart to forgive me for my foolishness?" Thranduil said almost theatrically. Baradeth looked at the king and his son momentarily, summing them up and trying to decide if she had more reason to like them than she did to hate them.

"I have no heart; in fact, the only organs that I bare are my skin and my brain. But I suppose that your apology is accepted anyways. Now, if you would follow me to my home, I will answer your questions and show your people where they may set up camp."

She turned without another word and began following the path to her home, expecting the others to follow her as she went. Thranduil raised an eyebrow as he watched her go, her cloak of black wolf's fur swaying as she went.

"An odd one she is." Legolas said.

"I'm sure you would be just as odd, having been put through the things she has."

Legolas frowned and looked up at the king in irritation. "You know more about her than you let on."

"Oh, my daft son," Thranduil sighed as he began down the path with his people marching after him, "I know more than I let on about many things."

…

It turns out that Baradeth's front yard was much more welcoming than the back. Granted it was smaller, but it had a view of trees, the Sea of Rhûn, and the Ash Mountains rather than dead orcs or dwarfs. In fact the yard itself, where the soldiers and servants were setting up camp, held no death in sight.

The image beyond the yard though, only visible from the hilltop on which the elven king and prince stood, was magnificent. Trees standing tall and proud baring orange and yellow leaves, the sky a mix of greys and blues, the great sea so clear it might as well have been made from glass, and the mountains dark and sharp before the horizon. It was a view that left even the king's mouth agape.

Baradeth stood on her doorstep with her hands on her hips, the king and prince beside her, a content smile upon her pale, scarred face. The porch they were on was large, made of white wood and had a railing made of intricate weaving designs. A charming little rocking chair sat in one of its corners with a small table beside it, looking ever so welcoming. The elleth looked up at the king.

"Makes you wish you'd taken the long way round, doesn't it?"

"I am starting to see the appeal in doing so." Thranduil muttered. Baradeth chuckled and walked inside her home, calling for Legolas and Thranduil to join her.

The first floor was made of only two rooms—a sitting room and a kitchen—connected by an archway of similar design to the railing from the porch and a set of stairs to the right of the entrance. The ceilings high and the walls unpainted, and there was no flooring other than that of the simple earth.

The sitting room was rather cozy, with a wooden chair in each of the four corners and a rug made from the fur of a bear in the middle of the floor. A bookshelf was placed between two chairs on the right side of the room and a small fireplace sat symmetrical to it. The walls held nothing other than a few candles and some small windows.

The kitchen was smaller and mainly consisted of only counters and cupboards. There may have not been any running water, a stove, or an ice box, but dry ingredients were stacked in neat piles on the counters while herbs, dead rodents, and roots hung from the walls in a nearly decorative fashion. A window, clean and clear, was placed above the counter and shed light upon the room, along with four candles evenly spaced apart.

Everything was built in similar shades of wood and clearly made by the same hand. Sprouting up from the dirt and soaring up into the next floor were the thin white trees place randomly about which served as pillars to the house. Some of the trees were a part of the walls—one made into the staircase, another in the archway—and the rest stood proudly in the center of the rooms. One lone branch stuck out close to the ceiling from one of the tree's trunks and hung above the fireplace; tied to this branch were a few damp shirts and socks left out to dry.

It was all very tidy and organized, and if it weren't for the clothes drying in front of the fires, it would have looked like nobody was even living there.

"Please, sit." Baradeth said as she motioned to the chairs before striding into her kitchen. Neither of her guests moved to take a seat, being more interested in examining her home further. "I'd give you a tour of the rest of the house, but it really isn't much and…well, I'm fairly certain that not all of us could fit in their at once."

"I'm surprised that we could all fit in here." Legolas muttered. Thranduil refrained from giving his son a smack on the back of the head.

"I apologize on my son's behalf for his prolonged lack of manners. I promise, he isn't usually this horrible." Legolas looked to his father slightly confused, not too sure if he really was lacking manners, before bowing his head in his own apology to Baradeth. The elleth only waved it off though and continued to move things in her kitchen around.

"It is not his fault, nor is it anyone's who comes to this place. In fact it is my own fault…more on that later though. I am sorry for the clutter; it's not often that I have _friendly_ visitors looking to speak with me in my home…actually," the elleth paused in the doorway to her kitchen, "you might very well be the first." She gave an inquisitive little hum before turning back and moving some pots and pans around to look for her pitcher of clean water with the intent to make herself, and possibly her guests, some tea.

Legolas looked around him and muttered "Clutter?" in a slightly confused way. "There isn't anything here to be made a clutter _of_."

Thranduil's hand appeared on Legolas's shoulder as the prince touched a sock hanging in front of the fireplace and shoved him hard so that he fell into one of the chairs there. The prince glared up at the king, hating being manhandled in the same manner as a child, but the king didn't bother to look at him. Instead the king stood in front of a tree with his hands clasped nicely in front of him and a polite smile on his face.

"Trust me when I say, dear Baradeth, that your home challenges your own beauty and charm."

The king's son rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair, looking out the window just above the bookshelf. Thranduil watched her with keen interest as she went about her home. The elleth wouldn't stop moving around, setting a metal kettle over the fire to let some water boil and untying the clothes from the branch to throw them upstairs.

"Oh?" Baradeth laughed heartily. "In that case I truly must apologize further for both the state of my home _and_ for my own appearance, as neither of us looks half as fine as we once did. Would either of you be interested in a cup of tea, or perhaps some milk? I'm certain I've got a bottle of finely fermented wine hidden somewhere in this mess."

"I wouldn't mind a glass of wine." Legolas said glancing up at the two from where he sat.

"And you, king Thranduil?" Baradeth asked as she crouched to look through her cupboards for both the wind and a glass to serve it in.

"No, thank you. We've brought with us all of the food or drink that we may need." Thranduil looked pointedly at his son. Legolas didn't bother with reacting, but eagerly reached out to take the wine once it was offered. It was true that the young prince was acting different from his usual self; otherwise the king would be more accustomed to feeling the need to scolding him. He'd been provoking Baradeth and being obnoxious for quite some time and Thranduil wondered why that was.

"So," the elleth sighed as she stood before the king and prince, "what have you come to question me about?"


	3. Part 3

Part 3

"I suppose that there are many things I wish to ask you about…" Thranduil said thoughtfully, strolling around the tree and to the bookshelf. His pale hand hovered over the spine of each book there and he realized that they were all of different languages and origins.

"Things such as where you came from, why you are here…what made you the way that you are."

"I think there is one issue that must be dealt with first and foremost." Legolas said as he sipped wine from his metal cup. Thranduil turned and looked at his son, wondering what fresh can of worms he was trying to open now.

"And what issue is that?" Baradeth asked kindly as she leaned against the kitchen doorway.

"The bodies." Legolas leaned forward in his chair, his elbows sitting on his knees while his now empty cup dangled loosely from his hand. "They couldn't have all just conveniently dropped dead on your back porch."

The house was quiet for a few moments.

Thranduil thought his son's approach to be rather simple and crude, almost offensive in how forward it was, but he could not disagree with Legolas. It would be nice to know exactly how those dead creatures outside came to Baradeth's forest, which was so far away from any town or city, and die. The king worried that if it was outright merciless murder in even one case, then he would have to arrest the elleth. The last thing that Thranduil wanted to do was bring her into Mirkwood and make her stat where his people resided; not when she brought so much death into her life.

"I am afraid that I agree with my son. If you are as big of a threat as you seem to be, then you will have to be held in custody and pay for your crimes." Thranduil carefully watched her face as he said this, trying to find any hint anger or fear. He was impressed when he saw nothing other than reasonable understanding.

"I figured as much." Baradeth sighed. "Well, would you prefer to be told the longer or the shorter explanation?"

"Longer." Thranduil said at the same time that Legolas demanded "Shorter." The king glared at his son as Baradeth grinned and waited for them to come to a decision.

"The longer explanation, Baradeth, if you wouldn't mind." Thranduil said with a tilt of his head. Then he spitefully said "And please, don't leave out _any_ details." while looking at Legolas.

"I promise not to, dear king."

The elleth began to slowly pace back and forth as she spoke. The king sat down and listened with keen ears as she began her tale.

Baradeth told them that she unintentionally fills anyone's mind and heart with such darkness that they forgot who they are, and that even the kindest soul could become a murderer if they came face to face with her. It was not a voluntary thing, quite the opposite actually, but it needed to be dealt with. People came to Baradeth's forests either with intent to kill her after hearing a story about the creature living there, or they accidently got lost on their travels and came across her, when they would unexpectedly also try and kill her.

The first few times this happened, about a hundred years ago, Baradeth had just played dead and let the person go on their way. The people who had supposedly killed her, though, would wander around her house and mutter to themselves in regret of what they'd done. Sanity soon left their minds, sometimes from the grief of being a murderer, other times from how good it felt to kill.

She decided that she could not let those people go back to their houses after having done what they did, worried that they might kill once more because of her. So instead she tried to scare them off.

"When I first became Baradeth, the creature in the forest, I was given a power." She told them. "I could…move things with my mind and control the animals around me to do my bidding. I was able to throw shadows into the night so that only darkness was left. At first, using my odd powers worked and scared off anyone and anything that came near.

"I had a good five years to myself where I was not plagued by my worry. That's when I built my home actually," Baradeth said fondly as she looked at the walls around her, "with the aid of my new abilities. These walls carry as much magic in them as I do…but that's a story to be told at a different time. My brief moment of rest and relaxation was ended when drunken bets were made and people came to me yet again to prove their strength to one another. They flew into my forests like migrating birds, searching their hardest to find me.

"I may have frightened them, chased them off with the aid of wargs and giant spiders, but they always came back. For the twenty years I'd lived here, I had yet to kill a single person; up to the moment when my hand was forced."

A sullen shadow fell upon her face then and made her eyes darken and her mouth curve downwards in despair. She told the king and prince of the different ways that people tried to end her for good. A group of ten dwarfs had found her, tied her down and gave her strange medicines, so that they might find a way to forever rid the world of her.

By these dwarfs Baradeth had been burnt, boiled, beheaded, pulled apart, minced, massacred, carved, cleaved, poisoned, dissected, and much more.

"Oh, dear." Thranduil muttered with slight concern in his voice. He had a very distraught expression as he listened to her tell her story, and couldn't help the painfully tight clench in his stomach. His hate for dwarfs seemed to constantly grow. The elleth continued her tale, too caught up in her memories to even hear the king.

She tried to escape many times, but each time she did she was given more of the wretched poison which stilled her muscles. For days, she lie in her yard and let herself be tortured by these dwarfs, her screams and cries for mercy echoing reaching into the mountains, before she could take no more.

Baradeth called upon the wargs, the giant spiders, the snakes and the ravens to help her, but the hammer-wielding dwarfs only swung their hammers and swords, killing every animal that came near them. Then, in a last effort to be rid of these torturous dwarfs, she called to the orcs of Mordor, to the trolls of the mountains, and to the goblins living in their tunnels for help.

"You turned to the enemy in your time of need?" Thranduil asked.

"Of course I did, I had to." Baradeth mumbled. "The enemy was the only one that didn't try to kill me."

The orcs arrived first, snarling and spitting and squealing as they fought with all of their might against the dwarfs. Axes waved through the air and swords clashed together, but one of the dwarfs snuck from the fight and went to Baradeth to set her body on fire.

By the time that the goblins showed, the dwarfs had been cut down to half of their original number, the orcs were all but destroyed, and the elleth was a blackened form made from ash and charcoal.

Then the trolls came stomping into the scene and what was left of the dwarfs dwindled away until there was nothing.

The creatures surrounded Baradeth's body and waited for her to come back to them, and when she did, they treated her as if she were their queen. The orcs complimented everything about her, the goblins knelt before her and kissed her feet, and the trolls gave her a pat on the head.

"Wait a minute." Legolas interrupted. The elleth blinked quickly in surprise, as if she'd forgotten that others were there with her, and raised her eyebrows at the prince. The king seethed at his son's rude intrusion, his jaw clenching.

"Yes?"

"If your story is true—"

"It is."

"Then how can you be standing before us? You say you were tortured and torn apart so horribly, even to the point of being ignited like a stack of lumber. If this is so, then how are you still able to tell us this story?"

Baradeth looked at her hands as she wrung them together.

"I assume that I cannot be killed for the same reason that I do not have to eat, sleep, or relieve myself; I am dead." She waited for a response of some sort. Baradeth thought that Legolas or Thranduil would doubt her, or maybe believe her and be so upset by information that they took their leave. They did not though; they did look rather surprised and somewhat disturbed by what she said, but they did not leave nor claim her to be a liar. For this the elleth was thankful for, and decided to continue without explanation.

"I will tell you the story of how this came to be once I've finished the tale I am currently telling, if you would like."

Thranduil bowed his head and asked her to proceed.

"I was confused during this time. I had been much more innocent and naïve then than I am now, and could not understand why such terrible things had been done to me. I looked around me and saw blood and fire, weapons and bodies lying any which way I turned. The dwarfs—creatures I had been once told were funny little things that liked to sing and dance about—they were all stacked up to have their dead bodies join the burning pile."

Baradeth's expression was one Thranduil had not thought he would see her give. Her face drooped, her eyes tried to water, and her face paled just the slightest. Baradeth's mood seemed to effect the environment as well, for the candles began to dim and go out until only the one nearest to her was left ablaze. A twist filled his stomach and throat which hurt enough for tears to arise in his own eyes. Gloom was the only word which could come to the king's mind while looking at the elleth before him.

"I was numb. My body and mind stood still in hopes of making sense of what was happening, but it was a rather difficult thing to do. All I could really do was wonder if those dwarfs would had ever stopped torturing me, even for a moment. Maybe they would have taken be back to their home so that even more of them could do even worse things to me.

"Then an orc came to me doused in blood, some of it his own and some not, and he drooled over my feet like a dog. He and the others were wanting to eat the dead, for it would be a shame to let all of that fresh tasty meet go to waste. He swore up and down that if they had full bellies and a night of rest in my comfy little field, then they would go find where the dwarfs lived. They would destroy their homes, kill their families, and set fire to the town."

"Disgusting filth." Legolas seethed, the metal cup still in his hand straining under his angry grip. "Tell me you slaughtered every one of them."

"Legolas." Thranduil snapped at his son. "One more word from you and you will spend the rest of the night in your tent. You were not brought along so that you may aggravate Baradeth and I with your interruptions."

The corner of Baradeth's hinted at a grin and she spoke, cutting off whatever Legolas was going to say.

"I did slaughter them."

The king and prince looked at her.

"You see, they had already started to eat not only the dwarfs, but their fallen friends as well. They ripped the flesh from the bones and chewed through the fat and muscle, giggling while they ate their enemies and comrades at the same time.

"They were selfish savages; true murderers that knew of nothing other than death and despair. I asked the orc in front of me for his sword, which he handed over without a single question, and I beheaded him. The others were too busy eating to notice or care as I mowed them down one by one. More lives were taken and more blood was spilt. The trolls helped rid me of the goblins and orcs, and for this I let them go back to their mountains to hide. Daylight was not far away though, so I knew they wouldn't make it before being turned into stone."

Baradeth pushed off of the archway and strolled to the window in the kitchen to gaze out of it. The images from that night were as fresh in her mind as they were when she first saw them; things far more horrible, more gruesome than what was there now.

"The ground was sticky with blood and organs, and I had many bodies to dispose of, so the fire didn't stop burning for weeks. I collected anything useful I found, but the rest was set aflame. From that day on, I've warned every person that's come to kill me that they would die if they did not leave."

The elleth turned and looked at Legolas and Thranduil.

"No, they didn't all just conveniently drop dead on my back porch. Every single body you saw in that yard was one doomed to die the moment that they set foot in my woods. I warned them _all_ of their fate should they stay, they _all_ attacked me some way or another, and they _all_ paid for it. For I am not an evil creature that kills without purpose…I am merely someone who learned the hard way not to let anyone take advantage of me."

Baradeth walked to the fireplace and carefully took the pot of boiling water back to the kitchen where she poured some into a glass and tipped a teabag into it.

"I will leave you to decide my fate." She sighed and carried her steaming cup of tea outside.

The elleth sat on her porch and watched the campfires below her glow in the setting sun. She did not drink her tea, for what use did a dead body have for such a thing, but simply held it in her hands and let the memory of its taste and smell comfort her.

Thranduil and Legolas looked at each other for a moment as they sat in their chairs and thought deeply. They each reviewed the situation from multiple points of view in attempt to deem if she was a criminal or not and asked themselves _and_ each other many questions.

Was she at fault for whatever magic made others hate her so much that they wanted to kill her? Or were they at fault for attempting murder? If what Baradeth said about the people who did think that they had killed her, and wanted to kill again, was true, then was she in the right for stopping such a thing from happening?

…

It was nearly an hour when Baradeth walked back into her home to find Thranduil and Legolas sitting in the exact same position. She grinned only slightly and stood in front of the dying fire to warm her hands, even though she could not tell the difference between hot and cold.

"So tell me, almighty king Thranduil and darling prince Legolas; would you imprison me for my self-defense?"

Legolas and Thranduil stood from their chairs and faced the elleth, Legolas seeming to be strict in his stance while Thranduil was ever so graceful in his.

"It has been agreed," the king said, "that if you keep your murders a secret, then so shall we. Our soldiers will say not a word of what they have seen here today, for if our people had confirmation of this, they would surely demand that you be punished. That is not something that I think you deserve."

"What _do_ I deserve, then?" Baradeth asked as she gazed into her fireplace.

Thranduil strode forward to stand directly behind the elleth and laid a kind hand upon her shoulder.

"You, my darling, deserve respite so that you may redeem yourself; prove yourself to be a good person."

These words were not what she had hoped to hear. She had wanted to know that she deserved forgiveness, that none of the killings she'd done were in any way her fault. The words that the elven king spoke, though, were not as kind as Baradeth wanted. In fact, these words sounded as if they had dark potential; almost hinting at _manipulation_ in a way.

Had she not told him but an hour ago that she would not be taken advantage of? Maybe they weren't devious at all though, maybe Baradeth only thought so because she was used to it.

She turned to the king, his hand falling from her shoulder to be held with the other in front of him. And it was there, in his steel colored eyes, when she saw that he was indeed just as scheming as the orcs can be.

"And how would you have me redeem myself, _king_?"

"Legolas," Thranduil said as he turned to his son, "go and find yourself something to eat. Baradeth and I must talk in private for a moment."

The prince frowned, not liking being left out, but left anyways.

Thranduil turned away and casually walked to the shelf holding, what he now knew to be, books of the people she had slaughtered over the years. If he looked close enough he could even see bloodstains on the spines. He began to play with one of the many rings that sat on his finger as he thought of his next words. With his eyes still reading the names of the old novels, the king turned his head and spoke over his shoulder.

"Tell me, darling Baradeth…what would it take for you to tell me the secrets of the enemy?"

The elleth's intake of breath was not great or obvious, but the king heard it none the less and knew; Baradeth was the elleth that he had thought her to be.

"Secrets?" Baradeth laughed. "To tell you a secret, I must first have one _to_ tell, dear king."

Thranduil turned and walked purposefully towards the elleth. She stepped back slightly as grew nearer in an impending way.

"Would you like gold; jewels and riches beyond your wildest dreams? If need be, I shall deliver them to you Baradeth. All you must do is tell me what you know."

"Thranduil, I do not know of any secrets." Her tone was less amused now, but this did not stop the king.

"Solitude, then, would surely please you. Wouldn't it be enjoyable not to worry of horrible creatures trespassing on your land ever again? It would give me _such_ a relief to keep you from having to add to the already long list of the dead. A law to keep anyone from bothering you further can easily be made, if you should wish it."

"You are not listening to me, Thranduil, I do not know any secrets!" Baradeth hissed in exasperation.

"Perhaps you are sick of this solitude you've been forced to endure, my darling Baradeth."

The king reached up and carefully moved a strand of silver hair behind her ear before taking her cheek in his hand. His thumb ran softly over her white, chapped bottom lip and he moved even closer, enough so that Baradeth wished to be elsewhere.

"It would be understandable for you to want the company of another. I am sure there are many that would be more than willing to marry such a gorgeous elf such as yourself—"

"Enough!" Baradeth whispered, taking the king's hand and shoving it back against his chest. "Even if I did hold secrets of the enemy, _which I don't_ , do you honestly think they would just let me give them away? Hm? Did you not think that whoever it may be—because it certainly isn't me—that knows of Sauron's plans would not be _thoroughly_ monitored at all times?"

They stood there with less than a foot between them and looked into each other's eyes; steel against ice. Baradeth tried, with all of her might, to make the king just _think_ and realize that the subject of Sauron was not one to be lightly spoken of in her home. All that Thranduil could think of, though, were of ways for them to do just that without sparing their lives in the process.

"There would be no possible way for…whomever it is that knows of such secrets," he paused, catching himself before he could say "you", "to speak of the enemy?"

Baradeth's eyes squinted, wondering if Thranduil was playing at the game she thought he was, and tilted her head inquisitively. The king nodded his head for her to answer him, and the elleth figured she should take a shot at it.

"Not one single possible way."

She nodded her head as she spoke, and recognition filled Thranduil's eyes. His chin lifted just the slightest as he stepped back and regained his kingly composure.

"It seems that I was deluded, dearest Baradeth, and I apologize for my misbehavior. I shall go and take up dinner with my son now to leave you to your books. I bid you goodnight." Thranduil turned and left, swiftly closing the door after him, before Baradeth could say another word.

She briefly wondered if he knew that they were only being listened to by Sauron's allies, not watched, therefore giving them the only way they could communicate about such things. There had been that look of comprehension in Thranduil's eyes, leading Baradeth to think so, but the manner in which he left made it seem otherwise. With a stressful sigh Baradeth began walking up her stairs when she stopped and thought about what the king had said.

"Leave me to my…" Looking down and to her left Baradeth saw something sitting on top of her bookshelf and quickly knelt down to snatch it up and give it a closer look.

The king had left behind one of his rings.

…

"Why did you do that?" Legolas asked, suddenly appearing to walk next to his father.

"Do what?" Thranduil asked with a stony face as he stepped into his tent.

"Make me leave so that you could speak alone with Baradeth."

Thranduil sighed as he moved the maps from their table and went about finding ink and paper.

"You are not yourself, my son," was the king's only answer. He found what was needed and sat at the table to begin writing.

Legolas sighed, watching his father curiously, but did not deny or question him. He knew what Thranduil said was true, and could only hope that whatever was happening to him would soon be put to an end.

"Neither are the soldiers. They are spreading rumors about Baradeth and hoping that they will get to kill her. Some are already planning an ambush." The king sharply looked up from his parchment.

"You mustn't let such a thing happen, Legolas."

" _Me_?"

"I cannot worry about the soldiers, not now, for I have many other things to deal with. You will keep them in line, I trust?" Thranduil assumed as he looked down to the note he was writing once more.

"If it is your will, then I shall do so…although I worry if I will try to stop them or join them."

The king sighed and held his head in his hand, forgetting all etiquette what told him to sit straight and keep his elbows off of the table. His quill scratched roughly as he scrawled across the paper, his hair occasionally falling in the way.

"You are a clever boy, Legolas. Impulsive and ignorant, but clever. I believe that you will know what the right thing to do is, so long as you keep your head balanced neatly on your shoulders. Now leave me and settle any minds that turn to rabble."

Legolas staid only a second longer, watching his father as he wrote, and wondered if leaving him to be in charge of the soldiers was a good idea. Then he stepped out and quickly went to work shooting down any thoughts of violence.

 _To my dearest Baradeth,_

 _I know that you are the elleth what snuck into Mordor to try and take the ring from him and I know that you have been horribly cursed for it. I do not care about why you did it or if you would be interested in doing so once more. All that I wish to know is what you managed to learn about the enemy whilst in their midst._

 _I understand that asking you for such a thing puts us both in danger's way, but I must be prepared if Sauron is to ever rise again. I ensure you that telling me such things will one day benefit us both. If this is not enough incentive then, pray tell my beautiful elleth, what is?_

 _-Thranduil_


	4. Part 4

Part 4

Thranduil paced back and forth in his tent, his silver sleeping robes flowing behind him as he went, and muttered to himself. The king had slipped his note under Baradeth's front door almost an hour ago, and his restlessness had grown to great heights.

Has she not seen it yet? Baradeth couldn't have gone to bed; she mentioned earlier that she does not sleep. Hopefully she had found it, read it, and was currently responding to it.

Thranduil halted as an upsetting thought flitted across his mind.

"She does know how to read and write…doesn't she?"

Baradeth had to know, of course, Thranduil told himself as he lowered himself down onto his bed of pillows. If she couldn't read, then why did she have all of those books? Possibly as decoration, yes, but she is a clever and curious girl, she had to have taken a glimpse once or twice. All elves, rich or poor, are required schooling in the first few years of their lives, so she had to know to how read and write at one point. She may have forgotten though, and that was a very upsetting thought.

The king hadn't noticed it, but he'd crossed his arms and begun tapping his fingers anxiously against elbows.

Maybe she had written back and was merely waiting to send the letter. Waiting for what, Thranduil did not know. Did she expect some carrier pigeon to deliver her mail? What a foolish idea to have. Maybe she had slid her letter back under her front door and was waiting for him to—

Before Thranduil could even finish this thought, he was up and out of his tent, walking briskly up the hill to Baradeth's home. Sure enough, a folded piece of paper sat neatly on her porch, just waiting for someone to come by and read it. The king glanced at her front door with squinted eyes, feeling as if he should knock on the door and scold her for how careless she was with her letter. He did not though, and hid the letter in the folds of his robe, deciding to go back to his lodging and read what she had written.

He had hardly stepped foot into his tent before he had the note in his pale hands and unfolded.

 _T,_

 _I do not think it wise to address these letters to one another in the case of someone finding them. We should also burn our notes after reading them, and deliver them to my porch for the other to collect—your men will not take too kindly to me walking directly up to your tent. Quite a nice tent, might I add; it's more of a house, really._

 _As for any connection to Sauron that I may have, I ensure you, you do not know nearly as much as you think you do. It is true that I stood beside him to pose as his ally when in reality I was planning to give information to whomever so wanted it. Sadly, I was discovered before I could escape to tell his secrets, and "cursed" as you so fondly called it._

 _Sauron watches over me now, even in spirit, and is willing to send his army to stick my head on a pike the moment he thinks I am up to something. There is only one thing that would make me tell his secrets, and it is not a thing so easily given by others._

 _I suggest you put a stop to your foolish hopes, for I will not simply tell you his plans because you wish me to._

 _-B_

The king read her letter twice before tossing it into his fireplace and moving back to his desk to write another letter. The contents of what Baradeth had said frustrated him to no end.

Did she not hear him when Thranduil said he would offer her anything? Did she think him lying when he said those words to her?

 _B,_

 _Would you like a dress made of rubies and sapphires? Would you like a mansion as big as the Sea of Rhûn? Would you like to be made the queen of Mirkwood? I would shower you with gold, my darling, and have a marble statue made in your likeness that reaches the skies if you wanted me to._

 _None of these things are easy or simple, dearest, but if you wish for them, then they shall be yours. If you yearn for more or for less, then so be it; I do not care what it is that you want, for it will be given to you no matter the cost._

 _All I need are a few bits of information._

 _-T_

Even though the king wanted to deliver the letter to Baradeth's very hands, he knew he could not give it to her tonight. The soldiers would surely notice his abrupt coming and going of the elleth's home and he did not want to raise suspicion. So he ate dinner and tried his best to go to sleep.

The king was still awake when the sun rose; he could not silence of distract his overactive mind and decided to give stop trying and just go to Baradeth. If anyone questioned him, he would simply say that he wanted to have breakfast with the elleth before the day got too exciting.

The king dressed in fine brown and gold robes, grabbed a few apples and pieces of bread, and slowly made his way up the hill once more the meet with his new friend. Of course, he had the letter with him as well, hidden neatly up his long sleeve.

"Father," called Legolas as he jogged up to the king, "what are you doing up so early?"

"I wish to speak with Baradeth. You may join me if you would like." Thranduil held out an apple to his son, both surprising and pleasing the prince at the same time.

"Thank you father, I think that I shall."

Thranduil rapped on her front door only once before strolling in, expecting to see her in the kitchen or perhaps sitting in one of her chairs in the living room. The elleth was nowhere to be seen however and Thranduil wondered if she had left. Baradeth then came walking down the stairs, her clothes damp and her hair dripping down her back, having heard her door open and close.

"Can I help you?" She seemed to be a bit flustered, straightening her clothes as she walked. Thranduil smirked at this and held out his letter towards her unabashedly.

"Good morning to you, darling Baradeth. Have I interrupted something?"

The elleth quickly snatched the letter from the king's hand and watched Legolas carefully to try and see if he knew of their notes. From the squinting look of mistrust on the prince's face, though, she would have bet that he was clueless.

"Not at all; I merely lost track of the time as I bathed."

She placed the note in her pocket and pulled out the king's ring, slipping it into the pouch of his trousers with a sly wink as she walked past him to poke and prod at the fireplace. Thranduil's brow rose in surprise at the elleth's boldness, and the grin he bore could not leave. More and more intriguing became Baradeth as the king grew nearer to her.

"Bathed? Here, in your home? I was not aware you had running water." Said the prince, not catching the flirtatious move Baradeth had just pulled.

"Only on the second floor. The water comes from a hot spring nearby, runs through some simple piping, and is filtered with many pieces of cloth. How I managed to figure it out on my own is a magical mystery in itself." She paused then and saw what the elves held.

"Surely you're eating more than just that, right?" She asked, looking at the apples and bread in the king's hand. When the prince and king only looked at one another, the elleth sighed and shook her head, taking the food from their hands and going into the kitchen before they could protest.

"No wonder you two are so scrawny, if this is all you ever eat in the mornings."

Legolas frowned and went to glance over Baradeth's shoulder to see what she was making.

"Naturally you must know," Thranduil grumbled, the pleasant grin now gone from his face at being called scrawny, "that elves are not required to eat quite so much, so that we may stay light and quick on our feet."

Baradeth chuckled as she threw some ingredients together to make a salad.

"You think that starving yourself will make you faster? Well, it'll do you no good when you get fatigued from hunger and find yourself injured. All muscle and bone," she muttered to herself before turning about and lightly poking Legolas in the stomach. "You have hardly any fat on you to protect the important bits!"

"Whoa, hey!" The prince barked in offense, stepping back and covering his stomach. "Keep your hands to yourself."

The king had to keep himself from smirking at the outraged and scandalized look on his son's face, but it was a rather difficult feat to accomplish. Baradeth snorted and faced the counter once more to chop and mix the foods before her. Turning to his father, the prince mumbled something about "talk about _my_ important bits", and grouchily stood against a pillar with his arms crossed.

"You stubborn elves can never listen to reason until proved wrong. Never mind, then. You two obviously didn't come here to be scolded by me, so what is it you want?"

"You are right, darling Baradeth. Yesterday, as you told us your story, you said something rather interesting."

"I consider most things that I say to be interesting." Chuckled Baradeth as she began putting large heaps of the salad into two bowls.

"Indeed they are. I believe you mentioned that you would explain your…" Thranduil paused as he was served his colorful food, " _anatomy_ to Legolas and I."

He looked down into his bowl warily, unsure if it was sanitary to eat food prepared by a dead person. It did look quite scrumptious, though.

"Ah, I did say that, didn't I?" She wiped her hands on her pants and took out two clean mugs and began filling them with water. She passed the drinks to the elves before her and put her hands to her hips.

"Why don't I save that one for after the two of you've finished eating, yeah? Not exactly a conversation fit for breakfast."

"I promise to have a strong stomach if my father does." Legolas teased as he began spooning the green leaves into his mouth. Thranduil ignored his son's challenging jest and smiled for the elleth.

"Please, Baradeth, it is something that's not left my mind all night."

She smirked and crossed her arms.

"Glad to know that my anatomy still interests _somebody_."

Within a heartbeat the king's smile was replaced with a look of irritation while it was the prince's turn to keep from snickering.

"That is not what I—"

"I know, king Thranduil, I only joke. Very well, I suppose that I'll explain it to the best of my knowledge." A chair was pulled from its corner and abruptly spun around so that Baradeth could sit on it backwards as she made to explain herself. "And those bowls best be empty by the time I'm finished." Scolded Baradeth with a finger pointed at both of the elves.

She scrunched up her face and thought hard, trying to remember the first few years after being sent into the forest. It seemed like such a long time ago, and yet she could recall it all quite easily.

"I was both killed and brought back from the dead by the power of dark magic. It took me a while to figure it out, but being ran through with a sharpened blade more than once made my predicament quite obvious. Whatever wounds I get do not bleed or heal, so I must stitch them up and hope that the string holds."

Thranduil's eyes fell to the large cut on Baradeth's throat what had been made by Legolas's arrow the other day. Indeed it was not bloody or scabbed, but held closed by some perfectly sewn stitches. Had she first learned her skill of sewing from mending clothes, or from tending to wounds?

"I found out that my insides had dried and shriveled up, to the point where they became mere flecks of dust, when I was sliced right across the belly," with a dark grin Baradeth dragged her finger across her midsection crudely "and nothing fell out.

"I went days and days before realizing that I felt no hunger and hadn't had a single bite to eat, and it took me even longer to notice that I wasn't the slightest bit tired. I suppose that I can sleep, if I try hard enough, but it doesn't make me feel any different, and just seems like a waste of time."

"Then what do you do all night, if not sleep?" Questioned the prince before taking another bite.

"Oh, there's quite a lot to be done around here. Hunting, cleaning, cooking, sharpening weapons, keeping the pipes sturdy, making sure the trolls stay at bay," she paused and stared off in thought, scratching behind her ear, "sometimes I make clothes from what the intruders carry onto my lands, other times I just use the pelts and skins left of my hunting expeditions… and read, I mostly read."

Legolas chuckled at how simple she made her life sound. His days were certainly filled to the brim with important, law-concerning things, that he couldn't take even a moment to find a book what might interest him.

"Why do you make food if you do not eat it?" The prince asked.

"It serves more, than anything, as a reminder of what my life used to be. A bit of a hobby and a pass-time, too."

"Quite a lot to be done, indeed." Thranduil said doubtfully.

"Mock me if you wish, king, but some would be glad to have so little responsibilities. Few might even see my life as a vacation, if it weren't for all the violence and whatnot."

Baradeth took a deep breath, resting her cheek against her arm as it sat on the back of the chair.

"The real reason I don't like to sleep, I suppose, is because I'm worried I won't ever want to wake up. That I'd voluntarily put myself in a coma, just so I could forget the rest of the world and be left alone for once. Things would be so much _simpler_ if I didn't wake up."

A sad and awkward silence fell across the room at the elleth's words. It was made clear that the elleth felt old and tired and was ready for whatever true death awaited her. Legolas wondered if one's life could be considered a "vacation" if it was filled with so much sorrow.

"In that case, I would prefer you to never sleep again." Thranduil said with stern eyes and his held chin high. Baradeth frowned and raised her head to look at the king in confusion.

"I might still make use of you, yet." The king explained.

The elleth smirked and sat straighter.

"I certainly hope so; I haven't been made _handy_ for quite some time. Back to the topic of the moment, though."

"What happens if you lose a limb, or are burnt, like you said you were?" Legolas wondered as he handed his empty bowl over to Baradeth.

"You, little prince, are full of questions today." She said as she stood and moved to a large pot filled with water that sat on the counter made to be a makeshift sink.

"If any part of my body, for whatever reason, becomes _not_ a part of my body, said part will disappear in a flurry of black mist and reappear where it once was. Toe, leg, breast, head; it all goes right back where it belongs."

"You've had your breast cut off?" Exclaimed king Thranduil in utter surprise and disgust. Baradeth hummed in affirmation as she scrubbed the bowl and put it back in a cupboard.

"I've lost both of them; more than once actually. You'd be surprised at the creativity of some people, king. And as for being burnt, well…that's a bit of an odd thing, even to me." She turned towards the elves and leaned back against the counter with her arms crossed over her chest.

"When I was tied to a pike with stacks and stacks of lumber at my feet, poisoned by the dwarfs so that I could not move, I had thought it really was the end of me. I thought 'this is it for good ol' Baradeth, creature in the forest'. Alas, it was more of a new beginning; at least for my body it was.

"Once the fire died down, and the ash and charcoal what had become of me threatened to float away in the wind, I came back. Whatever pieces of me that were lost quickly returned and the blackness peeled away from my flesh. My body was practically _reborn_ because of the flames that had engulfed me. I had new, unscarred skin, hair regrown and shiny, bones and muscles strong as ever; my organs and whatnot even recovered, fresh as the day I'd first been brought back. A bit of an odd thing, surly."

"Destroyed by fire, reborn by ash; quite similar to a phoenix, I think." Mentioned the king. Thranduil stood and took his bowl to the pot of water to wash it himself, casting a sideways glance at Baradeth every now and then.

The elleth's brow furrowed as she tried to think of what a phoenix might be.

"It's a bird," Legolas explained, "that when it dies, it goes up in flames and is, as my father said, reborn from its own ashes. It's not real of course, only a myth."

"You mean to say that you _think_ it is a myth." Baradeth corrected. "For many people think the creature in the woods to also be a myth, and yet here I stand." She gestured to herself with a grin and took the bowl from Thranduil's hands to quickly dry it off and place it with the others.

Legolas watched this with keen eyes and yet another thought struck his mind.

"I suppose you are right…pardon the question, but you wouldn't happen to be a mother, would you?" Baradeth's actions slowed and came to a stop; she refused to look either elf in the eye. Thranduil shot his son a warning glance, displeased at the obvious display of uneasiness that Legolas had brought to their host. The prince was quick to bow and apologize.

"I am sorry, Baradeth, to turn your mind towards whatever sorrow it is that burdens your heart."

"You speak far too carelessly, young prince." She muttered, walking past them and to the front door.

Thranduil's eyes grew in worry that his son might have upset the elleth so terribly that she would just leave them there. Hopefully whatever friendship there was between them, however small or quickly made, would not be ended so abruptly. He stepped after Baradeth in hopes to console her, but her next words calmed his anxiety, if only slightly.

"My home is starting to feel a tad too cramped, don't you think? I am going for a walk, feel free to join me." Her hand reached out and took hold of her black cloak of wolf's fur before strolling outside. The king and prince followed her, slightly relieved that they would not be shunned.

Prince Legolas could not help feeling rather terrible for being such a nuisance, and decided that his father should do the speaking from now on. He might be wondering of her past now, and yearning to ask of her family, but held his tongue still for fear of further upsetting Baradeth. The magic, what had made him act so sourly towards her yesterday, must have changed so that he could not tell when to necessarily shut his trap.

Baradeth lead them down the hill and to the right of her house, following alongside some piping that hid itself in the grass that would lead to the hot spring it was connected to. The king and prince quietly walked in time beside the elleth, Thranduil offering his arm for her to take. At first, she didn't seem to understand what he was doing, before she wrapped her own arm around his and let his other hand pat the top of hers in a comforting manner.

"It's been quite a while since a man has offered me his arm." She said. Thranduil did not respond, and just let Baradeth lead him and his son where she wanted. He was slightly on edge, not having been familiar to these woods, but tried not to show it for the sake of the elleth's still-tender heart.

"I once had a husband. He was a loving person; very strict and lacking of humor, but kind and loving nonetheless. We happily raised a son and a daughter together in the Grey Havens, up to the very moment when I was called by the ruler of our homeland." Her tone was soft yet emotionless, almost as if she wasn't aware that she was speaking.

"I had once been apart of the small group of archers there, before my husband and I decided to start a family, and the ruler was asking for the aid of everyone who had ever served him. He had every right to, and I will never call him an unfair ruler, for it was the beginning of the Second Age, and Sauron was making his rings.

"There were many jobs for all of us. Most were meant to stay in the city and protect its people, while others had more specific jobs that lead them far from their families and homes. My mission took me to the enemy's lair and into the path of danger."

Their walk had veered to the right of the piping and onto a new path, leading them to a clearing of soft green grass and white wildflowers. There was an interesting tree near the back of the path that bent and curled on its own, as a snake would wind around someone's leg, and had a small stream of water falling from its branches into the eye of the tree's cylindrical shape. Baradeth stared into that waterfall longingly.

"I was called Hallbess then, because I was always doing things in secret." Hallbess translated into hidden wife. "My mother did not tell my father—who was a married noble—that she was pregnant with me for fear of losing his love, and so I was born out of wedlock and into seclusion. It was no use though; he quickly found out about me and made ruin of my family's name.

"I was hardly as mistreated as my mother thought I would be, but only because I knew when to run away and hide. After I became of age, I worked as a spy of sorts for Grey Haven, learning what goods were being traded where, what kings had what plans in mind for their cities; things of that sort. I was always horrible with a bow and arrow, and much too slow to wield a sword, but I knew how to be as silent and nimble as a fox.

"It was because of my career of investigating other peoples' business that the making of Sauron's One Ring came to be known by others. I watched with my very eyes from the edge of Mount Doom as the ring was forged, felt the magma's heat upon my skin. I sent word to my ruler of the evil being born before me as soon as possible…I paid for this, and many other things I'd done to wrong the enemy, dearly."

Baradeth sighed and moved closer to the tree, letting her arm slip from the king's. Clearly lost in thought, she reached up and ran her fingers through the mixture of water and tree sap, watching it ripple and divide around her digits.

"I suppose that they've forgotten about me by now—my husband and children, that is. You spoke of myths earlier, my prince…I might very well be one to them. They must have moved on in their lives and found other people to love and call their own. I hope that they have; it's been a hundred years, at least." Her dripping hand moved back to her side, and the king and prince observed as her head lowered dejectedly.

"To know that I caused even a _moment_ of grief in their hearts is painful enough as it is…but to think they've suffered for _one hundred years_ because of my carelessness…I cannot… _fathom_ such a thing."

Baradeth covered her face and her shoulders began to tremble as she fought so hard to hide the tears falling from her eyes. Thranduil quickly stepped beside her and engulfed her with his arms, his robes and sashes catching each droplet as the descended. He hushed her and softly stroked her hair, lightly waving Legolas off as he did so.

"It is alright, my darling Baradeth, there, there. Oh, my sweet, tender-hearted Baradeth…you must not let these memories plague you so. I too have lost a loved one, and I too have shed many a tear for my loss." He pulled away and palmed her face in his hands and gazed into her white eyes as he wiped the wetness from her cheeks.

"Do not lose yourself in your sorrow, Baradeth, lest you wish to become a cold, cruel creature like me."

Baradeth shut her eyes tightly and rested her forehead in the hollow of Thranduil's throat, trying to regain her composure. When she spoke, it was in a broken and breathy voice, but of strong words.

"Cold, cruel creatures do not comfort strangers when they cry."

…

 _T,_

 _I am willing to make a deal._

 _-B_


	5. Part 5

Part 5

The three elves had walked back to Baradeth's home in silence, winding their way around trees and shrubs, their feet brushing against grass and flowers, and each thought of different things.

Thranduil, who walked with his head high and his stance proper, wondered if this would be the way to get information from the elleth. As dark and twisted as it sounded, the king would do anything to have covert information on Sauron; even befriend a tortured, murderous thing like Baradeth. Of course, there were worse things he could do to get what he wanted than have to become friends with someone that he would never expect to be friends with. Thranduil pondered over ways to show affection towards the elleth in a way that would gain her trust and respect.

Ironically enough, Baradeth was wondering about Thranduil as well. She thought of the king's show of sympathy when she cried and of the kind words he spoke. She wondered why it was that he wasn't as affected by the curse as others—perhaps because of how old he was—and had to question if he was always this nice to people he'd known for only a day. He did know her quite well, though, didn't he? A bit too well…Baradeth felt like the scales were tipped in his favor, then, as she realized she knew almost nothing about the king. In fact, it was extremely possible that he wasn't _even_ a king.

Legolas was thinking, as he walked to the left of Baradeth and stared at the ground ahead of them, about his mother, and how he and his father would have felt if they were in the same situation as Baradeth's family. Even _entertaining_ the idea that his mother could still be alive and in hiding, for whatever reason, was as painful as being stuck by a Mordor blade.

Half way to her home Baradeth remembered the letter in her pocket and quickly took it out to scan its contents. Legolas was still in thought and thankfully didn't mention it, but Thranduil took notice of her actions and was relieved that she would finally read his proposition.

The elleth, however, gave no hint as to if she was pleased or otherwise by his words; her expression stayed as stony as before with no sign of changing. This did not satisfy the king, and left him feeling rather sour.

The walk home was quieter and longer than the walk to the clearing had been.

Once Baradeth's house was in sight, Thranduil quietly asked his son to check on the soldiers and walked the elleth to her door, her arm still kindly draped over his. They stood together on her porch and Baradeth turned to the king to look up into his eyes. Again, she saw the manipulation in them, and again had to question his true motives for comforting her so quickly, but made no mention of it.

"Thank you for listening to my story…to all of them, I suppose. Nobody has cared to ask about me before, and to finally talk about what I've been through…it was rather helpful."

Thranduil smiled politely and tilted his head slightly.

"It was my pleasure, darling Baradeth. I do plan to listen to _more_ of your stories once you are ready to tell them." The hidden double meaning in his words—that he still wanted to know what she had discovered behind the walls of Mordor—was quite obvious. The elleth raised an eyebrow at him and her mood darkened ever so slightly.

"You sound so sure, king of Mirkwood. While courageousness can be an attractive quality, being demanding is rather off-putting. Now if you would excuse me, I need to think some things over."

Without waiting for a response, Baradeth went inside her home to contemplate who she could and couldn't trust, and left Thranduil glaring at her front door. And like that, the king was annoyed beyond reason. He swiftly stomped back to his tent, saving his irate grumbles for when he was alone.

What he did for the rest of the day, Baradeth didn't know, since that was the last time she saw him before sunrise of the next morning. The elleth honestly couldn't care what he was doing, though, for she had too many things on her mind to worry about others. Pulling her fur cloak from her shoulders and hanging it from a branch, she made her way past the bathroom and to the top floor of the small house that she had built years ago; to her bedroom.

The second floor was quite simple looking and consisted mostly of the large stone bathtub near the back of the room and a cabinet of towels. There were scented candles and a few trinkets that she'd picked up over the years—uncommonly large pinecones, rocks with gems embedded in them, driftwood that was warped beautifully—placed on a few shelves and the ledge of the tub. There was only one window, which faced the left side of the house, and two trees popped up from the wooden floor and reached up into the ceiling.

The third floor was possibly the darkest and plainest of them all. Her bed, a simple wooden frame holding up a normal old mattress, sat against the very left wall beneath the large floor-to-ceiling window which was uncovered by any drapes or curtains. There were only two blankets on this bed and one single pillow, all rather unremarkable. A closet was against the front wall, holding every dress, shirt, pair of trousers, and undergarments she had.

There were no decorations or accents of any sort in this room, and no candles to light it either; all possibility of being able to see relied on whatever light was provided by the window.

On the other side of the room, though, was a pedestal made of marble. It was waist high and covered in dust, as many things were in this rather unused room. On this pedestal sat a perfectly rounded black stone with white and grey swirls in it. This stone was covered by an old silk blanket, for it wouldn't be safe to leave it out in the open.

The name of this odd item was palantíri, and it was one of seven ancient seeing stones, four of which remain lost till this day. The palantíri were once used by royals or guards to communicate over long, vast distances across the world, and rather difficult to control.

Baradeth had come across this stone long before she decided to infiltrate Mordor and spy on Sauron—before she had even finished aging. She found it in a forest while exploring deep within the halls of a destroyed castle, and decided to keep it, not fully understanding its power.

It stayed forgotten and hidden under her bed for years and years and wasn't found once more until she decided that the room would become her newborn son's. When the bed was moved aside and she saw the palantíri after all of those years, she understood and feared it.

The seven palantíri weren't made for evil, nor were they used for such things. Now that the others were unaccounted for, there was no telling who could be watching.

A gang of orcs could be happy to keep a close eye on the elves for Sauron, or jealous dwarfs could accuse others of spying on their gold mines. Baradeth decided to keep the stone for herself and let it stay hidden, so that it might not cause trouble.

Along her journey the palantíri had followed Baradeth from the Grey Haven, to Mordor, and finally to her new home. Very few times had she gazed into it, and even fewer times did it bother to show her anything.

The seven stones worked only for certain people, as pets only listen when commanded by their owners. Now the palantíri sat in her nearly empty bedroom perched upon its pedestal, like the king's own crown waiting to be shined and fawned over, as useful as any common pebble.

She stood in front of the covered seeing stone, leaning on the pedestal and staring at the silken cloth hiding it from the world as if it would offer her some form of console. Many thoughts flew through Baradeth's head and she had a hard time with focusing on just one of them.

 _Can I trust Thranduil?_

 _His motives are selfish and careless._

 _Why isn't he horrible to me like others?_

 _He'll probably betray me._

 _What's the worst he could do though, really?_

 _Capture and torture me until the day he either dies or gets his answers._

That thought really stuck with her. If Baradeth did anything to cross Thranduil, anything at all, he could have her drugged and taken to his dungeons within seconds. Of course, she could always call every orc, goblin, troll, earth-eater, and possibly dragon to her aid if need be, but she would have very little control over them and innocent bystanders would be killed.

Would Baradeth really be willing to sacrifice those people just to save her own skin?

 _Would either of us really benefit in the end?_

 _He might not even be a king._

 _What if this is some sort of test to see if I will keep Sauron's secrets to myself?_

 _I shouldn't do it, it'll be foolish._

Despite every doubt that crossed Baradeth's mind, one idea couldn't stop rearing its ugly head.

 _What if he can break the curse?_

This, above all else, was what really mattered; not if he was a good person, not if he really was a king, not if he would betray her in the end. Baradeth needed to be rid of the curse, had been wishing and dreaming of it for decades, and here was her chance.

Thranduil had his motives in mind, and so did Baradeth.

For at least eleven hours the elleth stood in her scarcely used bedroom and contemplated every possible situation, imagining what would happen if things went this way or that. She thought of not only Thranduil, but also Legolas, Sauron, the orcs, trolls, goblins, and even wondered if her old family might be thrown into the mix of possibilities.

The sun fell from the sky and was replaced by a slight sliver of moon that hardly did anything to light the room. The darkness consumed her mind momentarily and all she could imagine was more death and destruction, more failed attempts at being a _good person_.

Then there was a loud clutter from outside and Baradeth was brought from her mind and back into Middle Earth.

Quickly she looked out the window, fearing that the elves had decided to try and overthrow her or that the enemy had decided to pay yet another uninvited visit. It was nothing horrible, though, merely a group of rowdy soldiers sparring in the dark.

Baradeth breathed a sigh of relief and let her eyes wander aimlessly over the campsite to watch those in her yard. Some ate their dinner by the firelight in silence, others whispered to one another with full mouths, and most ignored their food in favor of drink.

She watched the archers clean their weapons, more as a hobby than a necessity, and found herself gazing with interest at the largest tent among them. Baradeth had been spot on when she'd said it was the size of a house.

Was the almighty king of Mirkwood stalking about that majestic tent, muttering to himself and thinking just as hard as she had been? He seemed to be the sort to brood over many things. He could also just be sitting on a throne of sorts, casually commanding his servants to bring him this and that. Thranduil certainly looked the type to take advantage of being king.

Breathing deeply, the elleth made a decision.

Could Thranduil be trusted completely? No.

Was being lied to or betrayed worth the feeling of a pumping heart and hungry stomach like she once did a long time ago? Certainly.

Baradeth went back down to the first floor and reached to the bottom rack of her bookshelf where she kept her parchment and ink. Surly, the ink was rather old and unused, and she'd had some issues the day before with getting it to write, but it was better now. The paper was just as old and unused, rather scratchy and wrinkled with time; it was all that Baradeth had to use, though, so she made do with what she had.

Quickly, before her mind could be changed, the elleth scrawled across the page, folded it, and slipped it under her doorway. If the king got it, then a deal was indeed meant to be made. If not, the Baradeth would send Thranduil and his men on their way back to Mirkwood.

Baradeth just hoped that no blood would be spilt either way.

…

The rest of Baradeth's night was spent trying to distract herself from her excited mind. It wasn't exactly a happy sort of excited—it was more of a worried/glad kind of excitement—but it did keep her on her feet.

She thought of the changes that would need to be made around the house if the deal, which she had yet to even propose let alone get a confirmation about, was to actually be approved by Thranduil. The elleth figured that she really ought to be considering what she would write rather than doing so much work, but logic was escaping her for the moment.

She decided that a new table was needed, one that the king would be able to eat off of, and maybe a bit more decorations. Before she knew it, the elleth was conjuring up a wooden table, uprooting some nice wildflowers to put in jars and glasses, and thinking of new things to add to her boring bedroom. When the sky began to lighten up and birds started chirping, Baradeth took a break and started to make some food in case the king and prince wanted to visit her.

Breakfast was ready by the time Thranduil and Legolas went to see Baradeth.

The king stepped through the threshold, not even bothering to knock first, and hid the note he'd found on her doorstep for later. The elves halted in surprise at the sight before them.

A small, fairly new looking table was set between the two pillar trees sprouting in the living room and the chairs had been moved to it. Potted plants now took up the empty corners of the room, their leaves and vines spilling onto the floor over the sides of the clay mugs and pitchers. It actually looked somewhat cozier than it had been before, like the table and foliage should have been there the whole time.

Baradeth was abuzz with energy today, moving from food cooking over the fire to a bowl of fruits and vegetables on her kitchen counter. She hummed pleasantly, singing a fun tune made by men quite some time ago, and grinned at the king and prince as they entered.

Today she wore something most elves would not consider proper; a man's shirt with the sleeves rolled all the way to her shoulders and men's trousers torn just above the knee, both articles of clothing dirty and not fitting her tall body quite right.

"Someone's had a busy night." Chuckled Legolas. Baradeth smiled, clearly in a pleasant mood, and began putting plates and silverware on the table.

"Yes, well, I figured it was time for a bit of redecoration. Come on now, I've just finished the eggs."

"You made this table?" The prince asked, running his hand over the smooth edge.

"Yes, it was done about three hours ago. I've been working on it for a few days now, but found my work suddenly interrupted by a gaggle of armed elves."

The elves each smirked and pulled up a chair to the table, waiting for whatever meal Baradeth was serving them this morning.

"Really, darling Baradeth," the king sighed as he looked at the plate of toast, sausage, eggs, and grapes that was set before him, "you simply cannot continue to feed us like this."

"If I don't, then all of my food will go to waste. What is worse, dear king, eating the meals I give you, or letting them rot while others in Middle Earth are starving?"

"Where do you even get the food from?" Legolas asked in a daze as he picked up his toast.

"What did you think I meant when I said that I cook in my free time? The forest is overflowing with fertile land and tasty game, especially since I'm the only one here to take advantage of it. Every few feet you can find something not only safe to eat, but rather flavorful as well. Now no more questions, my friends, for I have business to attend to elsewhere." After being sure that they had their food and any napkins needed, the elleth rushed passed them to the front door.

Thranduil frowned at Baradeth's sudden take of leave and set his fork back down on his plate, quickly speaking before she could leave.

"Business—of what sort and with whom, might I ask?"

Baradeth gave a breathless laugh and stepped through the door, looking at her guests from the porch.

"Your plates better be cleared when I get back, Thranduil."

Within the blink of an eye, she was down the hill and running into the woods on her bare feet, grinning all the while.

"What do you suppose that's about?" Legolas asked.

"Eat your food." Thranduil muttered, still staring at the door. The prince made a slight face at his father, but did as asked and tucked into his eggs.

The king's eyes squinted in doubt before he quickly took the note from where it was tucked in his sleeve and opened it to read its contents. The single sentence written in old black ink was enough to make Thranduil feel just as gleeful as Baradeth.

Legolas eyed the letter in his father's hand thoughtfully as he popped a green grape into his mouth. He pointed at the note.

"Why—"

"Eat."

Thranduil stood, still not having touched his food, and let the note fall into the flames of the fireplace. The prince watched his father with raised brows, but ignored the question he'd been hoping to ask nonetheless and took another eager bite.

While Legolas agreed with Thranduil that elves didn't need to nor should they gorge themselves too much in case they gain weight and become just as slow and clumsy as men, he had to admit that Baradeth's cooking was quite delectable. It wasn't often he had time to sit and eat an actual meal to the point of being totally full.

The king lightly sat back down in his chair and glanced over his plate of food, not really seeing it or anything else he looked at.

Baradeth wanted to make a deal. For this, Thranduil was extremely glad, because it meant that when he pulled through—because he had no doubt in his mind that he could do anything Baradeth wanted—he would know that much more about the enemy. Now that it was really happening though, the king couldn't help the unexpected anxiety that fell heavily upon his heart.

If Baradeth wasn't interested in the treasure, romance, or power that Thranduil had blatantly and repeatedly offered her, then what could she want? Clearly, she wasn't as simple as any other elleth; she wouldn't be pleased by any mundane thing…or would she?

Thranduil might know of her history, but he truly had no idea of who she was as an ordinary person. To him, the elleth was a fairytale come to life what happened to have some useful knowledge. Baradeth's hopes and intents, along with her fears and irritations, were beyond the king's knowledge; as far as he was aware, she would ask him to rip Middle Earth in half for her, just so she could be entertained.

 _Was_ he out of his league?

"Aren't you going to eat, father?" Legolas asked as he washed his plates in the sink.

He hadn't bothered the king, knowing he was in deep thought over some serious matter, but Baradeth could be back any second now and the prince didn't want to find out what would happen if she saw that one of their plates wasn't clear of all food. Thranduil blinked out of his stupor and lifted his head to glance at Legolas as he dipped the used silverware into a bucket of clear water. Looking back down at his plate, the king found that his food had to be cold and less appetizing by now.

"No, son, I do not think I will."

"Baradeth won't be pleased." Sighed the prince as he dried the damp dishes on a cloth.

The king silently scoffed and stood from the table to aimlessly look out the front window.

It seemed that he did know something about the elleth; she certainly made sure that her guests got fed.

…

Baradeth's naked feet pounded on the dirt rhythmically as she sprinted through the woods.

Her white hair whipped past her pointed ears to float in the wind, and her clothes clung to her front in a desperate attempt to keep up with her. She leapt over trees and bushes, and carefully avoided sharp pebbles or poky pinecones. Her eyes did not water or burn against the wind, and her muscles wouldn't get sore if she decided to keep on running until there was no ground left to run on. The sun tried to touch the elleth, but the leaves and branches above her kept it from doing so.

No sound was heard as she went; there was no thud of her feet, no stray twig snapped, no puddle splashed through. Baradeth was only a shadow flying on the wind.

Since she was running as fast as she could, Baradeth made it to the Sea of Rhûn by noon. Had she been walking, it would have taken her nearly a day just to get there. She slowed to a stop, once she broke through the trees and spotted the sandy beach not too far away, and rested her hands on her hips. She didn't need to catch her breath or let her legs rest, for Baradeth didn't have lungs that craved for air or a body that ever got sore.

No plants grew from this bit of land—no weeds, grass, flowers, or trees—and no bugs liked to make their house in it. The sand was too hot and the water too salty to be a home for any living creature, so the beach was a rather baron one. The same went for the sea; no plants, no bugs, and no animals, except for a few large fish of the same kind and a certain flower at the very bottom of the sea.

The Sea of Rhûn was, from where Baradeth stood, more than one hundred and fifty miles long and one hundred miles wide. In the far left side of the water were some rather sharp, nasty rocks ready to injure any who dare to swim there. Directly across the sea were some nearby mountains, and further behind those were the Ash Mountains of Mordor.

She had one day swam the entire sea and come across this flower.

This flower is what Baradeth was hoping to find. It sprouted from the wet sand in the middle of the Sea of Rhûn and was at least ten feet tall. Its stem was thin, stringy almost, and a very light shade of green, and off of it blossomed clusters of tiny white petals hugging one another and long pollen tubes. The petals had a sparkly sheen over them that made them look like they were made of silver, and the pollen was the shade of gold.

How it is that a flower managed to grow in the middle of a nearly empty sea, Baradeth did not know, but she wanted it either way. She would not uproot the entire plant for fear of stunting its growth, but since there were four others surrounding it, the elleth decided it would be alright to take from just one.

The main reason she wanted this radiant plant was to impress Thranduil with it. He might want a crown fashioned from it, or for it to be stitched into the collar of his robes—or, as hard as it was to imagine, Thranduil might merely wish for them to be put in a vase so that he might gaze upon them as often as possible. Whatever it was the king might be interested in doing with the plant did not matter, but Baradeth simply knew that they would make his stay better, however long it may be.

Baradeth shed her clothes and left them hanging from a tree.

Her toes broke the top of the sand and sunk underneath it, only to be uprooted to take another step and repeat the process until she felt the cold water of the sea lick at her feet. She walked in and didn't stop, even after her head was under the water; there was no air in Baradeth's body to keep her afloat and she had no need to come back up to breathe. The elleth kept on walking deeper and deeper into the sea with her eyes open and her hair floating gracefully about her head.

The one breed of fish in the sea, nameless large black things with two tails rather than one and many eyes, curiously followed her. One tried to take a nip at Baradeth's arm, but was batted away like an irritating little bug and didn't bother her again.

It was an uneventful trip and took quite a long time for her to find the plant. It would have been faster if Baradeth had swam rather than just walk, but she never did like to hurry things along when in the water. Once she did find the flower though, glowing as it swayed in place, the elleth made sure to be kind and careful as she plucked two feet of it and took it back to shore. She dried herself the best she could and quickly dressed. Baradeth decided not to run back home, for fear of damaging the flower, but she walked quite briskly and made it to her house just as the sun was setting.

The king and prince were no longer in her home, but on her porch there sat a letter, one which she read as she placed the silvery plant in a nice water-filled vase.

 _B,_

 _What did you have in mind?_

 _-T_


	6. Part 6

Part 6

It was that night when Baradeth found the proper use of the flowers what she had fetched from the sea.

The elleth had been sitting at her new dining table with her writing utensils out, trying her hardest to write a letter to Thranduil. It was difficult, though, trying to put on paper words that felt like they must be uttered out loud.

How does one go about _casually_ asking a king to help them be rid of their curse by having said king spend ten days and ten nights alone with them? Not by writing it on paper, that is for certain.

Baradeth stared at the tall vase of Water Weed—the new name she decided to give the flowers she'd snagged—as she considered what she would tell him.

The tiny white petals, piled on top of one another in a fashion that was similar to pinecones, glistened with a silvery sheen in the water they floated in. There were at least thirty bundles of petals hanging from the thin stem, and it was in seeing those petals that the elleth got a new idea.

There was a way for Baradeth to speak with Thranduil in person.

She could say whatever she wanted to him so long as they both referred to the information on Sauron as something other than what it was. It would have to be something that seemed of importance though, something that would make the king willing to step out of his comfort zone because of how valuable it was.

The flowers could be the valuable item which they would speak about in place of the secrets she planned to tell the king. If it was truthfully important or worthy in real life didn't matter, so long as whoever or whatever was listening in believed that it was. They would use the flowers; act like they had some sort of magic that would be important to the elves which only Baradeth knew how to use. The details of this fake magic wouldn't matter in the slightest.

The elleth grinned at her cunning plan and quickly wrote to Thranduil, explaining how they would be able to speak in person about the matter, so long as he was willing to play a game of pretend.

She folded the letter, slipped it under her door, and went to the second floor to get a bath going. Baradeth's day had been long and adventurous, leaving her quite hot and dirty.

…

Thranduil once again visited Baradeth around noon, but had read the letter in his tent during breakfast.

The king wasn't sure how Baradeth's plan would work, for it was a rather risky thing to try. It would be easy to accidently say "in exchange for Sauron's secrets" instead of "in exchange for your magic flowers". It was unknown to Thranduil exactly who was listening in, or how often, or by what means; he just hoped that neither of them would slip up.

The king of Mirkwood knocked on the door twice before stepping into Baradeth's home.

She was sitting at the dining table, looking almost bored, with two full plates of food across from her. In her left hand she held a book open while in her right she held her chin. Her white eyes flickered up to his, her chin not moving from her hand, and she smiled slightly.

"You're late." She looked behind Thranduil as he closed the door behind him. "And without your son."

"Yes, I figured that our discussion ought to stay between just you and I today, my darling Baradeth."

"Understandable." The elleth sighed and set the book down as she stood up, reaching across the table for the second plate. "But it means more food will go to waste."

She carried it off to the kitchen and dumped the plate's contents into a small garbage bin before scrubbing the dish.

"I'm afraid that I will not be needing my meal either." Thranduil said. He stood next to Baradeth with his own plate in hand, ready to help her wash them. "It might be best if you just stopped cooking for us overall."

Baradeth halted in her cleaning and stared hard at the king, her jaw tightened in frustration. Her pale, scarred hand yanked the plate from Thranduil, dumped the food into the trash, and began to scrub once more.

The king was a bit flummoxed by her irritated actions, but didn't show it.

"I refuse." Baradeth said.

"Why?"

"Because the one day that I don't offer you a meal will be the _one day_ when you decide that you would like to dine with me." She began to dry the plates, huffing at an unrelenting strand of hair out of her face.

"It is not often that I have guests to feed, and I would rather throw away every morsel in my home than be seen as an unprepared host. I might be 'The Evil Creature in the Forest' to others…but to you, I will _always_ be 'Baradeth the Keeper of a Quite Fine Home and Entertainer to Friends'."

The king nodded, understanding that she demanded to keep a remainder of her integrity no matter what others thought of her. It was very clear that Baradeth was still an intelligent and civil creature, no matter how violent at times. He walked away to stand next to the table, noticing a vase of white unrecognizable flowers over the fireplace.

"A long title, don't you think?" He asked casually.

Baradeth chuckled and turned after putting the dishes away, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Not much longer than King Thranduil, Son of Oropher, Ruler of Mirkwood the Great."

Thranduil raised his brow in surprise at Baradeth's sudden show of knowing who he was.

"You know of my history?"

"I took the liberty of reading up on it, yes."

She walked to the table and held up the book that she'd been reading upon Thranduil's arrival. In elven writing, the cover said "A Retelling of the Kings, Queens, and Other Significant Royal Figures of Old". Baradeth held the large, old book out to the king.

"I picked it up off of an elf some time ago, but haven't read it until just now."

When Baradeth said that she had picked it up off of an elf, the king knew what she really meant and held back a cringe. Thranduil tried not to recall the effigies or dead faces from the archway in her backyard, but couldn't help wondering exactly how much of her home was made from the unwilling contributions of the dead?

"And what did you think of your book?"

"It was…educational, to say the least. You are spoken of on page four-twenty-six."

"You remember the pages mentioning _me_?" The king smirked proudly as he flicked through the chapters. The elleth chuckled and shook her head.

"But of course, dearest king." Baradeth said with a sarcastic air. "What else would I do in my spare time other than read all about your oh-so _fascinating_ life?" Thranduil glared at Baradeth with no real anger and a slight smile.

"Do you mean to hint that my life is uneventful, Baradeth?"

"I meant no such thing, _sire_. Now," she continued before he could think of a retort to her teasing, "I suppose that we should get down to business."

"And what sort of business might that be?" The question was an unnecessary one, only asked for the sake of the game they were playing. The elleth walked around Thranduil, lightly taking the book back from his hand and placing it on the shelf where it belonged.

"You came to me asking for information on the enemy." Baradeth boldly said.

"Information which I now know that you do not have." Thranduil quickly said, worried that whoever was listening might become overly suspicious. The daring elleth ignored his words and continued.

"You offered me many things that could be seen as valuable to others—riches, power, solitude, love—"

"Things that _you_ had no interest in." Thranduil said, still slightly baffled that nothing he had offered seemed appealing to her. Why she did not crave for simple, common things was beyond the king, but he did not bother to question it.

"Right yet again, Thranduil. And while I do not have what you came looking for, I do need your help with something. It will not be an easy or pleasant task, so I do not think you would do it out of the _goodness_ of your _heart_. I do, however, have something that I think you would like to call your own, and I would give it to you in turn for your assistance."

"I am not sure what I would like to hear about first; whatever it is that you want, or whatever it is that you are willing to give."

Baradeth nodded and went to the fireplace to carefully take the almost overflowing vase of Water Weeds.

"Let me make this easier for myself by offering up what you might like to have."

"A plant?" Thranduil asked in an unamused tone.

The king knew that whatever Baradeth said next would be a lie—that the plant she held was nothing but a pretty thing found in an odd place—and had to force himself to act interested for the sake of those who were dropping eaves. He acted interested as though she were speaking of Sauron's great secrets, saying that she knew where he was, what his plans were, where he had come from. In reality, though, she was only telling stories of the flower.

"It is a very rare and beautiful plant, yes. You see, king Thranduil, to others it might be just that; a simple plant that would look nice in a garden. To me or someone with my powers, though…it can grant someone immortality."

The elleth carefully sat the vase on the counter, some water splashing onto her hands and the table as she went.

"We elves already have immortality, darling Baradeth." The king said in a degrading voice, talking to the elleth as if she were an idiot. "I pray that you know that."

"Oh course I know _that_ Thranduil, I'm not daft." Baradeth sighed in frustration. "But I do not mean that it will make you ageless like we already are."

"Then what _do_ you mean?" He asked in exasperation.

"What I mean is that you cannot be killed. Not by any illness or by any wound; this flower, if used with the proper magic, grants you eternal life. And if this is not something you wish for yourself to have, my _darling king_ , then think of what it could make of your army." Baradeth said convincingly.

"Your archers could become unstoppable, your soldiers everlasting fighting machines ready at your beck and call. Never again will you have to train and send off hundreds of elves, only to have them slaughtered. Wouldn't that be wonderful? To let your fighters come back home, safe and sound, to their friends, families, and comrades?"

For a moment, Thranduil forgot that the trade was a ruse. He wondered about her deal with honest curiosity, and actually considered the offer.

It would be great to have less of his men put in harm's path. Always, he felt guilty when he looked upon his fallen soldiers. Always, he wished that there was some way to bring them back, or to at least keep any more from being killed. That his men died for him, for whatever cause he deemed fit, weighed heavily on his mind daily.

The king had blood on his hands; too much blood to wash away or ignore. Would it be nice to have his fighter's lives, even just a hundred of them, ensured until the end of days?

Undoubtedly.

Were this a _real_ trade being offered, Thranduil would take it in a heartbeat, no matter what it was Baradeth wanted from him. It wasn't a real trade, though, and the disappointment plagued the king's heart for only a moment before he recalled the true deal being made at the moment.

Forcing himself to toughen up and forget about the guilt of passed soldiers, Thranduil continued the charade.

"And this can only be done through magic?"

Baradeth sat at the table and looked the flowers over as they floated in their water. It was nearly amusing how dedicated to her ruse the elleth was.

"Through _my_ magic—the magic of one that already has everlasting life. And this can only be done with this specific flower, which grows at the bottom of the Sea of Rhûn. Both things—the plant and people who shall never die—are extremely hard to come by, so I suggest you take my offer here and now." Baradeth paused and eyed the king closely.

"That is, _if_ you want the power of the plant. Otherwise, tell your men to pack up and go, for your presents will no longer be wanted." Thranduil lifted a brow and eyed her closely. Did she mean to force their leave if the king did not accept whatever trade Baradeth was making?

"My darling Baradeth," Thranduil said, "we are _friends_. Would it really hurt if we stayed just a day more, with or without a trade? Surely, you have not let us stay this long only because of the potential to make a deal."

"I will not waste my time on you, king of Mirkwood, when there is no benefit to doing so." Baradeth answered honestly and almost heartlessly as she stood. "If you will not help me, then I will find someone who is willing to do so."

"Fine, fine, have it your way then. So, tell me what it is that you need help with." Thranduil sighed and waved for her to continue.

Baradeth took a deep breath and realized that she sort of forgot what she had wanted to say. So focused on making the story of the flower seem legitimate, the elleth had forgotten about the most important part of the deal. How would she ask for this? What words would she use, in what order, with what tone? Would her predicament be explained in exact detail, or would she breeze over it and hope for the best?

"As you know," Baradeth started without really meaning to, "I have been cursed; forced to live forever, with the claws of the enemy hooked into my back, until one of us ceases to exist. Well, I am not fond of this curse, and would like _very much_ to be rid of it."

"As many rightfully would, I suppose." Thranduil agreed.

"Right, and as far as I know, the only way to do so is by having someone trust me entirely, to the point where they wouldn't question my judgement whatsoever, because they know that I am trustworthy. Someone must have so much faith in me that they would put their life in my hands, if need be."

There was her answer, honest and to the point.

"You want me…to trust you?" Thranduil hesitantly asked. It sounded so simple and easy that he didn't understand what all of the fuss was.

"No, I need to _earn_ your trust and respect." Sighed Baradeth, slightly frustrated that the king didn't comprehend what she was saying. "It isn't as easy as you think, Thranduil; time and effort will need to be put into this, more than you assume."

The king closed his eyes and shook his head irritably.

"Enough with this… _toeing the line_ , Baradeth. Tell me, outright, what I must do in order to get my—" He cut himself off before he could say information. "plant. I am in desperate need of it, and whatever you plan on me doing in order to get it will be done. Now, just _say_ what—"

"You will live with me, in my home, alone for ten days and ten nights." Baradeth boldly announced. "You will not bring your men or any weapons, food, or clothing, other than what you wear. I will be the only source of providence towards what you need, and in doing so you will learn to trust me. After the ten days and ten nights are up, weather my curse is broken or not, you will have your flower. And if you are doubting me, then I am willing to give you one single flower now in order to prove myself."

Thranduil stared at Baradeth. She wanted him to stay ten days and ten nights in her home? Did she not think that he had responsibilities? King Thranduil, son of Oropher, ruler of Mirkwood, had people to protect, alliances to keep, documents to look over and approve. He could not simply slip away from everything for the sake of one elleth's problems. What would the council think? Not only would it be neglecting his duties, it simply wouldn't be safe, anyone with common sense would say the same thing.

No other people to watch his back if she decided to turn on him, no food of his own to make sure he was well fed, and _none_ of his clothing were allowed? His robes, his crowns and broaches, his sashes and gowns were hand crafted by the best of his people, and they were expected to sit in a closet and collect dust for so long? He would not have it, not for _anything_.

"You," Thranduil jeered, "are foolish and sorely mistaken if you think I would dedicate my precious time to a _thing_ like _you_!"

Baradeth's eyes widened in offense and she backed away as the king stepped closer to her menacingly.

"Unlike your relaxed self, _I_ have duties, Baradeth, people who rely on me. I am king of Mirkwood and have much to do with my time. I _matter_ , and cannot simply be swept away whenever a simpleton wishes me to do so, whatever the cause."

Baradeth stopped backing away and decided to step closer instead. She strengthened her stance and her attitude, refusing to be talked down to in her own home. It had not been tolerated before, so why start now?

"If that is true," growled the elleth, "then why are you here right now? You could have easily left the moment I denied you what you came for, and your precious time would not be wasted. Clearly, you are not needed as much as you think, _my king_ , otherwise you would have been found and called away by your people."

The king scoffed and glared down at Baradeth angrily.

"Do not think that I leave my kingdom to its own devices, Baradeth. Of course I have appointed someone to take care of my obligations while I am away."

"If it is so easy to replace you, then why do you exist in the first place?"

Thranduil flinched at the honesty of her question as if he had been physically injured by it. Before he could say anything back, though, she held up her hand to stop him and took another breath, closing her eyes once more to calm herself.

"Never mind that. If you will help me, then thank you and forgive me for what I've said. If not then leave now and never come back, for you are _very_ near to overstaying your welcome."

Thranduil huffed furiously, not willing to be dismissed so easily.

"Need I remind you that I am your king, Baradeth? I can never overstay my welcome, for I can and I _will_ do as I wish."

"Oh, is that so? Well, in that case, take the flower then. Use its power, let it bless you, or your fighters, or whomever you wish. Go ahead, the flower is right there, ready for you to take advantage of it." Baradeth said smartly.

The king's jaw clenched tightly in utter anger as he realized that he couldn't just take the information from Baradeth's mind. If she was not willing to give it, then he would never have it. No form of torture would sway her and no number of years in a jail cell would warm her to the idea of helping him. The only way she would help him is if he helped her in return.

"Need I remind _you_ that you have no power here?" The elleth asked.

"Will you not think of the others that this could help, Baradeth?" Thranduil silently asked. "Shall you not give it through charity or good will? Must you be so…so…" His frustration kept him from finding the word he wanted.

The king smirked then and tilted his head up smugly, his silvery eyes glistening with dark cleverness.

"Ah, I see now." Thranduil slowly chuckled. "You have an agenda, and only care for yourself. How horribly _selfish_ of you, darling Baradeth."

Baradeth stomped towards the king with a sudden seething rage and glared up at Thranduil, her face only inches away from his as she hissed at him.

"Do not try to call me selfish, Elf King. _You_ were the one who came marching into my home, threatening to arrest me, demanding to know my history. _You_ came to me with no selfless intent, hoping to find some knowledge on Sauron, and for no other reason!" She began to shout and wanted desperately to push Thranduil away from her and out of her home.

"You would _dare_ to call me, an outcast elleth what must depend only on _myself_ for protection and friendship…you would accuse me of being _selfish_? While you sit upon your throne in the highest of towers, amongst the finest of food, dressed in the nicest of clothing, surrounded by people loyal _only to you_ , you would think yourself to be more charitable and generous than I? You," Baradeth shook her head and shoved her finger into the king's chest, "are the most greedy and ungrateful person that I have ever met. For, with everything that you already have, you would come to someone like me, who has near to nothing…and bother to ask for _more_."

Thranduil's mouth hung open and his eyes watered with uncontrollable emotion. The elleth scoffed at the shocked expression on the king's face. He would be surprised, she figured, since nobody would be willing to tell him such truths. Baradeth could risk it though, and she did so proudly.

"And now," she continued, "when you find that you must do something which requires effort in order to gain what you ask for…you throw a _fit_."

She turned to the plant on the table, not wanting to look upon Thranduil any longer, and waved him away.

"Go. I should have known better from the start than to let you stay so long. You are no longer welcome here, and if you are not gone from my woods by tomorrow's sunset, you will join those in my graveyard."

Thranduil squinted at Baradeth doubtfully.

"To kill a king—"

Baradeth turned and faced Thranduil head on. The candles flickered, the fire in its hearth grew ten times, the curtains wavered, shadows in the corners grew, and the front door flew open. The dark elleth spoke in a deep, dark voice that was heard all throughout the forest.

"To kill a king is no more difficult than to kill any other beast."

When Baradeth spoke again her voice was softer, but still powerful.

"Leave now, Thranduil, while you still can. And pray that I never meet you again, for my face will be the last one that you will see."

Swallowing hard and telling himself that this one time he could go on without having the last word—for he really did worry for his life and the lives of his men—Thranduil turned and walked slowly out the door. He might not be leaving on his terms, and he may have been insulted down to his very core, but the king would not _flee_ from the elleth.

The archers and servants were ordered to pack everything up and be ready to leave within the hour. Thranduil did not speak to his curious and concerned son; he only sat waiting atop his horse at the mouth of the trail, trying not to look at the bodies, effigies, or severed limbs around him.

Baradeth sat on the edge of her bed and stared at the covered palantíri as she often did when in a thought-induced stupor. Would anyone ever be willing to help her? Thranduil was the first person she had encountered who wasn't hardly as effected by her curse—possibly because of how old he was, or just because he himself was a powerful individual. She had managed to scare him away, though, and the chances of Baradeth ever living her life as she once did had just dropped significantly.

Before she knew it, the sound of marching feet walked around Baradeth in her house and into the backyard, where they began to quiet and disappear. The elves were gone. All was silent once again.

She didn't have anyone to tell her stories to. She didn't have anyone to feed. She didn't have a handsome, selfish king to banter with.

Baradeth tried to be angry at Thranduil and think of his worst qualities, but all she could really remember was the feeling of his arms around her when she had cried. She hoped to one day be hugged again, and found herself wanting for it to be Thranduil. Whatever faith was left in her mind and body reminded Baradeth of the words she spoke to Thranduil that day.

 _"_ _Cold, cruel creatures do not comfort strangers when they cry."_


	7. Part 7

Part 7

Three months went by and Baradeth saw no more elves. Orcs and goblins she saw plenty of, but whatever interest Thranduil had shown in her must have diminished into nothing, for he did not try to visit her again. And why should he? She _had_ threatened to kill him if he showed himself in her woods ever again.

It was after these three months, though, that someone who Baradeth had not considered stopping by decided to pay a visit.

Baradeth spotted the ellon as he was walking alone down the back trail to her home after she had gone hunting. With one deer slung over each shoulder, the elleth quietly and quickly snuck alongside the trail so she could follow the stranger and try to identify him. His dressing was familiar, as was the way he styled his hair, and the path he took was from Mirkwood. Had Thranduil sent one of his men to spy on her? Or was this one of the archers who had wanted to turn on the king just to get at Baradeth's throat?

As she got ahead of the ellon and peeked through the bushes at him, she realized who it was and her paranoid suspicions came to an end. She stepped out of the trees and onto the trail just behind him, calling his name as she did so.

Prince Legolas spun in place before he saw who it was and let an arrow fly from his bow.

The arrow whizzed through the short distance between the two elves and into the skinny thigh of the deer, sticking two inches into Baradeth's shoulder.

"It is nice to see you too, Legolas." The elleth said.

Legolas only gave himself the span of one breath before he had his weapon put away and was rushing over to her. The prince tried worrying over the wound, even though the elleth hadn't cried out or even flinched, and he couldn't seem to stop apologizing.

"Baradeth, I am so sorry, I did not mean to harm you. Are you alright? I am so sorry."

Baradeth only laughed and heaved the other deer off of her shoulder and onto his with no warning. Legolas buckled slightly under the weight of the animal and was curious as to how Baradeth had managed carrying two.

"How many times must you be reminded, young prince? I cannot be harmed."

Her hand pulled the arrow from both herself and the deer, wiped it off on the cloth covering her thigh, and plunked it back into Legolas's stash on his back.

"Although, you might want to consider who it is that you're shooting at before you fire next time. I imagine nothing good will come of killing somebody blindly."

Legolas nodded in agreement, looking disappointed in himself.

"Of course, you are right. I usually don't act as such, but…in these woods…"

She then began walking down the trail with the prince in tow, each sporting a dead deer, as if this were a daily routine.

"In the stead of my curse, you mean." Baradeth corrected. "The woods themselves have nothing to do with it, and are rather lovely without me in them. It is quite alright, Legolas; not your fault whatsoever. Now, if you wouldn't mind telling me, what is your business here?"

"I um," Legolas shifted and almost tripped in doing so, but quickly regain his balance, "I came to speak with you about my father."

Baradeth's expression saddened slightly and she solemnly nodded.

"King Thranduil…what of him?"

"Well, he was being rather unusual on the way home from the woods. He wouldn't stop barking at the servants and muttering to himself when he thought that nobody was paying attention. It lasted for a few days before he outright told me the truth of why we came to see you."

"You hadn't already known when he found me?" Baradeth asked in surprise.

"Not at all. At first I'd thought we'd come to kill you for your crimes, or at least apprehend you, but then we all started acting civil to one another and I ended up clueless as ever." Legolas grunted from his exertion, hoping that they were close to her home on the hill. When he continued, he made sure to keep his voice low. "Before I continue, I must ask; should I speak with the same caution that my father did?"

The prince's caution made the elleth grin to herself in amusement.

"No. The enemy was listening so carefully then because you had peeked their interest by bringing so many archers with you. Now that it is just you and I speaking, they aren't paying any attention whatsoever."

Legolas nodded and began speaking normally once more.

"I see…forgive me for asking, but how _do_ they listen in?"

"They use my own ears against me; the enemy hears whatever I hear, if they decide to listen."

"Interesting. Anyways, after he explained everything, he asked for my thoughts on the situation. This is what really made me worry for him, since he never considers others when it comes to his decisions, and even less often does he question things he's already done."

"This comes as no shock to me." Chuckled Baradeth. "And what were your thoughts on our disagreement?"

"I believe that my father is too proud and stubborn to do anything other than what he wishes. He would have been fine with giving you the things that he had offered you, simply because he thought that you would take them. Whatever amount of gold or goods you could have asked for, he had already parted with, but you asked for his time instead, and that was something he wasn't expecting. There are many things that Thranduil does not like, and some of those things are to be caught off guard or asked to partake in laboring tasks."

"That is a shame for him then, isn't it?" Baradeth asked with attitude. "I suppose he'll just have to grow up and realize that being king doesn't give one the right to be pathetic."

Never had Legolas heard anyone speak about his father in such a manner without any repose, and it surprised him so much that he couldn't help but laugh. Baradeth glanced at the prince sideways and grinned proudly to herself.

"I don't suppose that you said all of this to your father?"

"Oh, no." Legolas said quickly with a look of fright at the prospect of doing do. "I'd just be a headless stump if I did."

"Goodness." Baradeth muttered with a frown. One should not think that murder was an option when it came to the reaction of their father.

"No, I told him that his actions were regrettable and that a different course of action would have bettered us all. Even that was a dangerous thing to say to someone like him, but thankfully it went well enough. He told me he wished that it all took place under other circumstances; that it'd have gone better without the guards and without me, that he should have seen you in a different light." Legolas looked at Baradeth beside him and smiled.

"This is a good thing, you know. Never before has he acted so. He wants to do right by you, and not just for the things he wants, but also because he wants to make a good impression. While it might be only an impression, he will still try to act like a better person, and in doing so could help him truly improve himself. At least, I hope so."

Legolas looked up ahead once more and sighed with relief to see that they were almost at the elleth's house. The prince was also surprised to see that it didn't look how it had when last he was here.

There was no archway made from Baradeth's fallen enemies, the effigies were gone, any limbs or chunks that had once laid about had been removed, and the blood had been washed away. Granted, the smell still lingered, and there were a few splatters here and there, but it all looked much more appealing than it once had.

There were three piles: one of naked burning bodies, another of clothed bodies yet to be set aflame, and the third was a pile of jewelry, weapons, clothing, armor, shoes, backpacks, dishes, books, and many other things that the dead must have been carried.

Legolas ogled at all of this openly, but Baradeth must not have seen him staring at everything for she simply continued speaking and moving right along the path.

"For that to happen he would have to see me again, and that is not something that I think he is willing to follow through with, regardless of how much he really wants to. I do not know him very well, but I think that Thranduil is someone who likes to make excuses for himself, yet accept none from others."

"This is usually true," Legolas admitted with a dazed tone while they crossed the bridge, "but not now, otherwise I would be home rather than here."

"What do you mean?"

"My father sent me here, Baradeth, to make a proposition of sorts."

"Is that so?" The elleth asked with no small degree of intrigued shock.

"Indeed it is. Before I continue, though, I must ask; what are we doing with these deer?"

They were stopped at the bottom of the hill, Legolas squinting against the weight on his back and Baradeth grinning at him.

"I am going to skin them and then cook the meat, as most people do with whatever game that they catch and kill."

"You'll cook them? For whom? Surely, you couldn't have known that I was coming."

Baradeth laughed and set the beast on the ground, watching as Legolas tried to do the same with little success. One of the hooves was stuck behind his head and mussing up his perfectly straight hair.

"If I'd known you were coming, Legolas, I would not need _two_ deer to feed only you. No, these are for something else." Reaching behind his head and moving the limb with an embarrassing ease, Baradeth lifted the deer from the prince's shoulders and set it on the ground next to the other one.

"Come on inside, why don't you? I've still got that wine which you liked so much. I'm surprised you didn't drink it all in one go, honestly." The elleth walked the path up the hill with the prince in tow, secretly glad that he didn't ask what the deer really were for.

"You wouldn't happen to have any more of those wonderful sausages, would you?" He asked hopefully as he trekked behind Baradeth. "And maybe an egg or two?"

"Yes, young prince," Baradeth laughed, "I have plenty of food for you."

…

As Baradeth cooked, she urged Legolas to explain in further detail what sort of proposition Thranduil had for her. She briefly considered that many deals and offers were made whenever the elven king was involved.

The prince sat at the dining table and found himself happy that nothing inside Baradeth's home had changed regardless that almost everything outside had. It was still tidy and small as ever, filled with nice smells of earth and food, lit with tiny candles and an all-too-large fireplace. Legolas hadn't really thought on it too much before his visit, but he did find that he had become slightly fond of the elleth's house and was even glad that he could be there once more.

"My father regrets the things he's said to you—and rightfully so, since he was uncommonly nasty—and would like to make it up to you if he was given the chance to do so."

"And why should I give him the chance to redeem himself?" Baradeth asked as she fried some eggs over the fireplace.

This was not a question Legolas thought that the elleth would ask and he was slightly caught off guard. Baradeth began to twirl a spatula around as she spoke fervently by the fire.

"Thranduil had a rather _valid_ point when he mentioned having more important things to attend to than the needs of some creature in a forest. That I expected for a king to drop everything he is doing just so he could help me was ridiculously stupid and equally regrettable. And what was even _dumber_ of me," she said matter-of-factly, turning and point the spatula at Legolas, "was thinking that someone like _him_ could ever learn to trust someone like _me_."

"And what does _that_ mean; someone like him?" Legolas asked, slightly defensive. Baradeth rolled her eyes and turned back to her cooking, muttering to herself that of course the prince of Mirkwood wouldn't understand her meaning.

"I mean anyone of high status, or is treated as if they are of great importance. Posh, wealthy people, who have more power than they do knowledge, tend to be rather bitter and distrusting. They are used to their schedules—being woken up at a certain time, eating in a specific room, being around the same people day in and day out—and the moment something changes, all of their defenses are put up and they think of nothing but their own suspicion. I'm sure your father has had the same staff for decades now, the same warriors and same servants, and that is because he is weary of change."

Legolas frowned, feeling as if he were being accused of some bad personality trait.

"Do you think the same of me?"

Baradeth set a plate of steaming food before the prince, but this was the first time that he did not instantly dig in. She sighed, seeing she had offended Legolas, and sat across from him.

"When you first came here, you thought that the reason was to kill me or have me imprisoned. This is because it was what should normally be done with murderers, and you had comfort in this normalcy. The moment you found out that wasn't the case, however, and found yourself unsure of what was happening you became uneasy and wanted to kill me on the spot. Would you have been fearful and acted on impulse if you knew that I would be thrown in a jail cell or beheaded anyways, or would you have simply followed whatever orders your father gave you?

"You were lashing out and acting of your own will because you were unsettled and weary for the safety of yourself and others. Your father did the same thing when I asked for his time and assistance rather than his riches or power. Over the years, I've come to discover that many people who get what they want become terrified at the prospect of being denied what they ask for or given something undesirable. It is not just you and it is not just your father; all of Middle Earth is inhabited by people who do not do well with new, unexpected things, whether they have potential to be dangerous or not. Take the hobbits for example; I've not come across a single one in all of my years, cursed or otherwise, because they simply _refuse_ to leave the protection of their tiny homes. It's rather amusing, really, for a whole species to be scared of its own shadow." Baradeth chuckled and sat back.

"I do not know if I like being compared to a hobbit…"

"You really shouldn't, little prince."

Legolas realized that the elleth was right, even though he didn't like it. To be so accommodated to having someone wait on him hand and foot was a bit embarrassing now that he thought on it. Had being treated so for all of his life only affected his first meeting with Baradeth, or had he acted out of fear of difference more than just this one time?

The prince did not bother to look back or reconsider it, but just assumed that it was so, and vowed to become less sensitive towards new and unexpected things. At least, he vowed to _try_ and become less sensitive.

"I suppose that you _are_ right, though," Legolas said as he took a bite of his meal, "that we royals are put off rather easily…but that's no excuse for my father. He's a king, he should be above all of that. I think that he understands this now, which is why he's offered to help you."

Baradeth went to repeat what she'd said earlier—that Thranduil had more important things to worry about—but Legolas quickly continued before she could say anything.

"He would not offer something so valuable as his _time_ if he did not think it for a just cause. He has thought this through Baradeth, for weeks now, and has planned exactly what is to happen."

The elleth raised a disbelieving eyebrow and crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair.

"And what, _exactly_ , does he think is to happen?"

Legolas quickly chewed and swallowed his next bite before putting his fork down to focus more on the conversation at hand. He wasn't that hungry anyways.

"A month from now my father will leave Mirkwood to be escorted to these woods by only myself and two other guards. He will bring only the clothes he wears and tell nobody but his royal advisor of his whereabouts. While he is gone for the ten days and ten nights requested by you, the royal advisor and myself will deal with the responsibilities of Mirkwood. Once the ten days are up, regardless of what happens, my father will gain whatever information it is you have to offer and come back to the kingdom."

The prince grinned proudly at Baradeth once he finished what he was saying. The elleth, though, was ready to put the smile off of his face with her next words.

"It is a nice plan, Legolas, and I give credit to your father for it; but things will not happen like that."

Legolas frowned deeply and jerked back in offense.

"Why not?"

"Because—" Baradeth paused and looked at the meal before the prince, "eat your food before it gets cold—because it is not what I need to happen for this to actually work."

"No?"

"No. I need Thranduil to trust me Legolas, and it can only begin if he is willing to rely on my terms. Don't worry though, they aren't too different from his. Two weeks from now, he will leave Mirkwood and be escorted by whomever he wants, but the escorts must go back once Thranduil is halfway down the path. I will meet him there once the escorts are gone to see if he really has brought only the clothes on his back, and then we will continue to my house from there. None will visit us and nothing will be left in the forest for Thranduil to later find.

"I've decided that for each day he stays with me he will be given any one single piece of information on Sauron he wishes. At the end of the ten days, regardless of what happens, I will make sure that he knows as much about the enemy as I do. He will be escorted by myself back to the halfway point, where he will meet with the same people whom walked with him on his way here. Nobody will know the truth of his whereabouts or why he is gone.

"If Thranduil breaks any of my conditions or is not here in exactly two weeks, then there is no deal. He will go back to Mirkwood without any news of the enemy and he will forget all about my existence. If he does not like my conditions, then tell him not to show, because I will not be negotiating whatsoever."

Legolas looked at Baradeth closely, trying to tell if there would be any possible way for her mind to be changed, but he saw that she would not be swayed in this. Taking a deep breath, the prince poked and prodded at his food before setting his fork down and shaking his head.

"I fear that this change of plans will upset my father."

"I do not doubt that it will, Legolas." Baradeth took the prince's empty plate and began washing it. She spoke to the prince over her shoulder, her tone calm and serious.

"It took Thranduil three months to collect himself when he was first upset by me; make sure your father knows that he can't afford to waste his time now."

Legolas nodded and stood, ready to start the walk back to Mirkwood.

"I will try to keep his head on his shoulders, but it has never been an easy thing to do. I must warn you though that if he does come and stay with you, he may not be kind to you. You said that you would be the only source of providence towards what he needed, and he will take full advantage of that. I would not be surprised if he treated you as one of his servants." The prince sounded shameful as he said this, but knew that it was true and that Baradeth deserved to be aware of it. It seemed that she already was, though, when she nodded her head.

"I understood what I was offering when I promised this to the king, Legolas, and if he comes to my aid, then I will hold to my word and do as needed to earn his trust. If that means waiting on him hand and foot, then so be it."

"I see…well, I thank you, Baradeth, for your hospitality. And I apologize greatly again for the…" he awkwardly gestured to his own shoulder before coughing guiltily. The elleth turned around with a grin and strode up to the prince.

"Anytime, Legolas. You are always welcome in my forest and in my home…but I warn you that _you_ are the only elf I shall ever spare. It would do you well to remember that." She rested a kind hand on his shoulder and gave it a slight pat, opening the door for him and motioning him out.

"I bid you a safe travel home, prince Legolas."

"Thank you, Baradeth. I hope to see you in two weeks' time with my father in tow."

"As do I."

Legolas smiled and turned to leave, but paused as he looked out at the lawn in front of him, and hesitantly turned back to the elleth.

"Baradeth, why have you decided to remove the bodies from your backyard?"

The elleth leaned on one of the posts of her porch and crossed her arms.

"Because of something I mentioned to your father before he left. I had said that "I might be 'The Evil Creature in the Forest' to others, but to you, I will always be 'Baradeth the Keeper of a Quite Fine Home and Entertainer to Friends'." And a keeper of a quite fine home simply does not leave the dead on their lawn to collect dust and flies. Besides, I always thought that the effigies were just…a bit _much_ , don't you agree?"

The prince's brow furrowed and his head shook just the slightest.

"You, Baradeth, are rather odd."

"I will take that as a compliment. Now go, before it gets too dark."

And with that, Legolas began his trek down the hill and back into the woods. His journey would be long and sweltering, for summer had just begun. Before the prince could disappear into the trees and out of Baradeth's sight, though, the elleth called out to him.

"And be sure to stay on your toes, prince Legolas; spiders have been visiting me more and more often."

Legolas paused at the edge of the forest and quickly scanned the area before him. There seemed to be a darkness moving in between the trees, twigs cracking here and there, and he wondered if he should have his bow at the ready.

"Of course there are spiders." He grumbled irritably, shifting the bow on his back. "Why wouldn't there be?"

…

Baradeth decided to spend the night sitting on her porch with an old pipe burning in her hand. The ebony sky was dotted with white lights and the large full moon, and staring up into it was all too similar to starting into a bottomless pit. Many elves find comfort in the night sky and even celebrated the stars. For Baradeth, though, darkness was just a reminder of Mordor and the vile caverns and caves within it.

The elleth did find herself wondering, though, if king Thranduil was looking up at the sky as well. What did the stars remind him of? Surely it was something poetic and noteworthy, for a king not dare miss an opportunity to seem more graceful and romanticized than any other. Especially not _Thranduil_. Baradeth chuckled at this thought and stood to go back into her home with the intent to bathe.

If the king really was to come to her and abide by her conditions, then it was sure that the ten days and nights spent together would be rather eventful. Better bedding would certainly be needed for the king, as would more running water for a toilet.

A stove would also be nice to use for cooking rather than a few pots and pans over a fireplace; it'd be faster too, and wouldn't it be just like a king to demand his food be in front of him before his tummy even rumbled? The palantíri needed to be hidden, as well, lest Thranduil find it and start snooping.

Clothes would need to be made, and more books found so he wouldn't become so bored as to constantly bother Baradeth. She would have to think of ways to earn his trust, but more importantly, ways to keep him happy and entertained.

Yes, there were many things Baradeth had to get ready if the king were to stay with her. If he didn't and all of her effort was for naught, well, then at least she would be ready for the next fool willing to consider her deal.

For only a fool would dare live in the presents of the monstrously cursed elleth what knows only of death and decay.

Only a fool would try to trust the dark creature what resides in the woods, befriended only by horrid creatures.

Only a fool would put their life in the hands of Baradeth.

 ** _End_**

 _AN: This story will be edited and possibly re-written from a better point of view. A sequel is in the making. Thank you all for reading and reviewing, it means a lot to know my writing isn't all for naught._


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